Fanart for the incredible DP fic "Overshadowed" by @whereonceiwasfire. More spoiler-y art and my ramblings beneath the cut :)
Holy hell guys, Overshadowed is an incredible fic. So, so painful, but so good. SPOILERS AHEAD, please only view if you've finished the fic!!
The first image is just some vibes-based drawings while reading the beginning, and the second page is Danny mid-battle with Dan. I love the idea of his appearance shifting to something more feral b/c of his mental state, yeesh that's good.
Sketchbook page of (Clone) Danny biting Dan's f*cking jugular. Oof that was such a good mental image:
And then some end-of-story Phantoms. Ugh, the ending was so satisfying, and I wanted to try to imagine what Phantom looked like in the end
The problem with having a child with an attorney that has spoken to the child like an adult since birth is that she's 4 years old and she's negotiating the order in which we're going to complete tasks as a family to best suit her idea of an ideal day.
The great thing about being beholden to Penny the Deals Warlock is that she is also beholden to the art of the deal
Me: (watching Penny scoot her step stool over to where we keep the candy jar): hey honey we're literally walking out the door to go get dinner, maybe we wait on the candy okay?
Penny: Oh but I will have some candy?
Me: Why don't you come have some mac and cheese and then when we get home you can have some candy, deal?
Penny: (running out the door) oh, yes this is deals!
We are visiting my family and Papa has quickly had to pay patronage to Penny the Deals Warlock
Papa: (yesterday morning, when Penny was a little grumpy) What about you come downstairs and we'll have some waffles and then tomorrow Papa will take you to the Diner in town for breakfast?
Penny: (extending her tiny hand to a VERY confused man) this is deal?
Penny has a canker sore to end all canker sores, to the point where she hasn't been able to eat so we had to make some deals surrounding getting some medicine on it because a hungry Penny Rose is like a angry demon queen
Me: Okay baby this is going to suck. This is going to hurt real bad for a second and then it's going to feel weird and then it's going to feel good. You're going to hate it. But if you let Mama get these three medicines in and on you [Listerine, Antacid, Tylenol] you can scream it out and then we'll go get some ice cream! Deal?
Penny: (obviously not thrilled with this idea) okay, three big shreams, three medicines, ice cream ... it will suck... ice cream ... deal. (Sticks out hand and we shake on it)
Me: okay let's do this I'm so sorry (starts the process)
Penny: ( In between her big screams ) IM GONNA GET LOTS OF FRINKLES
I was so excited when I saw you were looking for drabble ideas! I love how creative your writing is and how good you are at fluffy/funny stories. No pressure if this isn’t what you feel like writing atm though! Prompt: a flirting with disaster au where instead of breaking up with Danny because she’s worried about ghosts going after him, Valerie decides to stick close to him and protect him from any ghost that gets anywhere near him. This is of course inconvenient for Danny since he can’t sneak away to go ghost, but also pretty entertaining when ghosts that usually annoy him are driven away by Valerie and he gets to play the damsel in distress
Thanks so much for the ask @zippy5080, you are too kind!!! (And sorry it's taken me so long to get to the prompt; my brain is just being uncooperative so writing literally anything is taking me FOREVER). This was SO MUCH FUN though, I was giggling away while writing it!!
There are a lot of pros to having a kickass, ghost-hunting babe for a girlfriend: Val doesn’t think Danny’s parents are total quacks, she can very much take care of herself when the spooks come marching in, and she is just—sigh—so cool. She has literally kicked a guy through a brick wall before. Of course, by guy, he means ghost, and by ghost, he means him. In her defense, she didn’t know she was roundhousing her doting BF into next Tuesday.
Which leads him to the one not-so-insignificant con to having a kickass, ghost-hunting babe for a girlfriend: she has no idea Fenton and Phantom are one and the same. To Val, Phantom’s just another sinister specter terrorizing their town, and Danny’s just, ah, terrorized.
He can’t exactly blame her for thinking he’s run-into-the-bathroom-to-hide levels of freaked when the ghosties show up, but it’s led to her being slightly…protective. Which had led to him being slightly…incapable of protecting the town.
It’s a whole thing—is how he finds himself darting a glance around the computer lab as the monitors start to rattle and shake, staticky bars splitting every screen. His classmates scream and scatter, but he manages to spot a head of ringlets ducking out of sight just as the pixels on his computer collect into blocky sunglasses, a voice crackling out from the speakers.
“Fear me, mortals, for I am Technus, master of all things mechanical!”
“Really?” Danny asks under his breath, arms crossing over his chest. “I was almost done my report.”
“Ghosts do not care about such things as this report you speak of!” Technus bellows, an eerie green glow surrounding the monitor as it bobs up and down in midair.
For pete’s sake, Danny doesn’t have time for this. But if he pops into the hallway to do a quick transformation, he can punch this guy so hard he’s seeing zeroes and ones for days before Val has a chance to—
“Not so fast, ghost!”
Welp. So much for that idea.
She stands on top of a table in tight-fitting black and red, a crimson headband pushing back her hair so her hot, angry scowl is on full display. She doesn’t even flinch as mice and speakers detach from computer towers all by themselves, dangling aux chords trailing behind them where they lift into the air, just holds her blaster arm toward Danny’s possessed monitor.
“Looks like you forgot one thing before infecting the school’s computers, cyber dweeb,” she says.
“Oh?”
“We’ve got firewall protection,” she finishes, a slight lift tweaking her lips as she punctuates the sentiment with the chuck-chuck of the blaster’s pump action.
Has he mentioned she is super cool?
“Now back away from my boyfriend!” she demands, brows dropping low over her eyes once more.
“Boyfriend?” Technus asks. “Well this is unexpected!”
His cheeks warm. “Hey!”
“Danny, you’re going to need to move away from the computers, okay?” she asks him in the softest, sweetest voice, like she’s comforting a lost puppy. He doesn’t hate it. “I know you’re scared, but can you do that for me?”
Scared? Oh right. Scared.
“Uh, I—I don’t know,” he says, widening his big blue eyes as he injects a quaver into the words. His crossed arms turn into a protective posture, hugging himself close. “What if he attacks me?”
“It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“What is happening right now?” Technus’ monitor twists to look between Danny and Val, bewildered.
They both ignore him.
“Are you sure?” Danny asks, blinking fast as he gazes up at his girlfriend. “He seems pretty powerful.”
“Oh, I can handle a couple circuit boards in a trench coat,” she says, giving him a wink that he feels in his stomach.
“What is this now?” Technus is saying.
“Okay then, I trust you,” Danny says, lifting his hands in surrender, biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing as he skirts away from the floating computer.
“Trust her to what? Child! Is this thing on? Trust her to what?”
Technus is still blathering away when Val releases a bright flare of magenta energy, the blast arching straight into the floating monitor with a whoosh that sends Danny staggering backward. The computer is obliterated, the rest of the floating equipment falling lifeless around the lab with loud thumps and clatters as their puppet master is banished to the ghost zone.
Val is vaulting tables and is beside him in an instant, clasping his face in her hands, concerned eyes roving over him as she smooths his hair away from his forehead and asks if he’s okay.
“Fine, fine,” he tells her with a breathless laugh. “That was awesome!”
She gives a sheepish grin and a quick peck, and you know, he’s changed his mind actually. There are no cons to having a kickass, ghost-hunting babe for a girlfriend.
In which Maddie (vlads cat) hates dan. Dan is however given the child duties to clean feed and brush said cat.
OMG, please, this is HILARIOUS! Exactly the kind of ridiculous shenanigans I needed in my life right now. Thanks for the request!
The only thing worse than being back in the body of a fifteen year old—and all the aches, and limits, and emotions that come with his unsolicited humanity—is being treated like a fifteen year old.
“We are not having this conversation again,” Vlad says, reclined in a wingback chair, one leg crossed over the other, not so much as a glance up from the newspaper spread open before him. “If you’re to be a part of this household, you will contribute to this household.”
Dan’s shoulders stiffen where he stands across the man’s pretentious cocobolo desk, fingers curling until he can feel the bite of his nails leaving angry red crescents against his palms. “Funny. I don’t remember asking to be a part of this household.”
“Nevertheless,” Vlad answers, snapping the pages of the Milwaukee Tribune to punctuate the end of the conversation.
Dan gives the man a second to elaborate—two long beats of silence before the hot words bubble up the back of his throat and escape. “I am not taking care of that vile furball. It—”
“Ah, ah,” Vlad cuts in when the detestable creature in question leaps up onto the desktop. It closes its eyes and starts revving like a pickup truck as the man folds his paper down for a damn cat, leaning forward to scritch beneath its chin. “That’s not a very nice thing to say in front of her, now is it?”
“What’s not very nice is waking up to the sound of that thing puking on my bed.”
“Oh, were you feeling sick, sweet girl?” Vlad croons into the cat’s purring face.
Ugh.
“I’m feeling sick,” Dan says between gritted teeth.
A cold, unsympathetic gaze flickers up to him. Vlad returns to a stiff-backed posture in his chair, fixes the already laser-level precision of his tie as his lips press on an equally straight line. “Then I’d suggest you complete the tasks expected from you—”
“Chores,” Dan interjects bitterly.
“—sooner rather than later. While you’re still feeling well enough to snark at me.”
“You know, in my timeline, you cowered from me,” Dan growls, chin lifted, glaring down his nose at the man.
“Mmmm, fascinating,” Vlad murmurs absently, papers rustling as he returns his attention to the Tribune.
“I miss those days,” Dan mumbles under his breath as he stomps closer to the desk, the cat instantly going on the offensive as he does. It drops its head, shoulders rounding, tail flicking as the fur up its back visibly prickles. As he reaches out for it, his features twisted on a sneer, he gives a low, warning, “I swear, I will turn you into soup if you—”
It narrows golden eyes and hisses at him. He responds by baring his own fangs and hissing back which sends the animals skittering into the safety of Vlad’s lap, newspaper crumpled beneath six pounds of fur and spite in the process.
The man gives a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Dan, please. Is all of this really necessary?”
“I’m not the one making this difficult. You stupid cat hates me.”
“I wonder why,” Vlad deadpans.
Dan slams his palms down against the desk, hard enough to send the metal beads of the insipid Newton’s cradle perched in the corner clacking together.
“I will not be humiliated like this,” he roars. “Ordered around by some middle-aged sycophant on a power trip. I had Amity Park in the palm of my hand. I batted away armies like they were nothing. The Fright Night answered to me! I was practically a god.”
Vlad just reaches out to stop the pendulum swing of the cradle with one hand, the other stroking a soothing motion over the cat curled up against him.
“Yes, that’s nice,” he says impassively. “But now, you have the constraints of a child—your powers limited—I still have my ghost half, and the only alternative to this arrangement we have is to take your chances with the master of time.” He says the moniker with no small hint of derision, rolling his eyes as he does, but it sends a faint shiver running up Dan’s spine anyway, an emotion he hasn’t felt in nearly a decade tightening across his chest. Whether Vlad picks up on it or not, he puts a knife-point precision on the fear as he goes on, a knowing glint in his gaze as he meets Dan’s eye. “He’s already tried to unmake you once—allowed you more grace than you deserved by giving you another chance. I can’t imagine how favorably he’d look upon your lack of cooperation now.”
Dan grinds his molars together hard enough to crack.
“So,” Vlad continues, lifting the cat by the scruff and dropping the now disoriented ball of fur back onto the desktop. “I expect you to take care of Maddie. You can start by trimming her nails. They’re getting a bit long.”
“Is that all?” Dan asks, cold enough for the words to frost over.
Vlad’s lips twitch on the edge of a smirk. “Oh no, certainly not. You’ll need to bathe and groom her. Empty her litter. And feed her, of course. She has very particular tastes. She’ll only eat soft food—have the staff write the brand down for you, you’ll likely need to go put in a request for more at the shop soon. It’s special ordered. And you’ll want to mix it with a little bit of the hard food for her teeth. But not enough that she’ll notice. And don’t forget, she won’t eat anything if she doesn’t see you open it in front of her.”
“Are you kidding me?” Dan can’t help but interrupt with a snarl.
“Just think of it as a growth opportunity,” Vlad answers, fingers steepling on the desk before him. “It’s a good chance for you to learn to get a handle on that temper of yours.”
Dan forces his expression into the tight rictus of a smile, though his eyes are filled with murder as he leans forward to scoop the suddenly squirming animal into his arms.
“I hate you and your cat,” he says in the most pleasant tone he can manage.
“You’re welcome,” Vlad answers with a self-satisfied grin.
Before he can do or say anything he’ll regret, the white hot flare of rage burning behind his sternum, Dan twists for the door, squeezing the cat to his chest. Though it could just as easily be a furry white octopus he carries into the hall for all the limbs that lash out at him, the creature trying to wrestle itself free.
A furry white octopus with a dozen tiny little knives.
“Soup,” Dan whisper-hisses the reminder at the bedeviled creature as sharp pin pricks pierce the sleeves of his sweater, “A big ol’ pot of Kitten Noodle if you don’t cut it out.”
But even a cat doesn’t take his threats all that seriously anymore.
I have been fighting for my life over here against the worst writer's block and imposter syndrome I've ever experienced but today it occurred to me...could the answer (as with most things) be Tumblr? Like, maybe some short, low pressure drabbles that didn't originate in my ✨️uncooperative brain✨️ could put a little spark of joy back into the process? Or maybe it could find me breathing into a paper bag asking myself where I went wrong with my life as I finish an hour-long treatise explaining why a kids' show from the 2000s deserves my unerring perfection and highest creative peformance. But, as they say, you can't make an omlette without an exitensial crisis over the price of eggs in this economy, or however that expression goes.
Anyway, TL;DR: if anyone wants to leave some dp drabble requests in my askbox/comments/tags that I can play around with when I have time, I would be eternally grateful. Anything from a super vague prompt to an incredibly specific line of dialogue to incoherent rambling about your coworker who keeps responding to inquiries about the weather by saying it's "Fahrenhot outside" is totally good with me. I can't guarantee I'll be able to write every request (or that anything I do manage to write will be any good), but I'm so willing to call on the creative genius hivemind of the phandom and at least try. And if this turns out to be a Remarkably Bad Idea™️ actually, then I will deny this ever happened and so will you. Okay thanks, love you, bye!
You all are a bunch of mad geniuses, thank you for the prompts (and feel free to keep them coming)! They're GREAT, and I'm actually feeling...hopeful—nay, excited even??? to start working on them! Hoping to have time this weekend to mess around with and post a couple of the drabbles! Fingers crossed thy lady muse doesn't decide to desert me before then.
I have been fighting for my life over here against the worst writer's block and imposter syndrome I've ever experienced but today it occurred to me...could the answer (as with most things) be Tumblr? Like, maybe some short, low pressure drabbles that didn't originate in my ✨️uncooperative brain✨️ could put a little spark of joy back into the process? Or maybe it could find me breathing into a paper bag asking myself where I went wrong with my life as I finish an hour-long treatise explaining why a kids' show from the 2000s deserves my unerring perfection and highest creative peformance. But, as they say, you can't make an omlette without an exitensial crisis over the price of eggs in this economy, or however that expression goes.
Anyway, TL;DR: if anyone wants to leave some dp drabble requests in my askbox/comments/tags that I can play around with when I have time, I would be eternally grateful. Anything from a super vague prompt to an incredibly specific line of dialogue to incoherent rambling about your coworker who keeps responding to inquiries about the weather by saying it's "Fahrenhot outside" is totally good with me. I can't guarantee I'll be able to write every request (or that anything I do manage to write will be any good), but I'm so willing to call on the creative genius hivemind of the phandom and at least try. And if this turns out to be a Remarkably Bad Idea™️ actually, then I will deny this ever happened and so will you. Okay thanks, love you, bye!
saw an elderly woman walking around with a tote bag whose design were the four AO3 fic category squares and she very excitedly asked if i was a reader or a writer bcs nobody else at the con had recognized it, and after telling her that i've been writing fic since fanfic.net, she solemnly nodded and explained that she'd been reading fic since "the days of personal websites" but that she only started writing fanfic when she was 47 and oh my god when i tell you that i genuinely teared up on the spot!!!!! like!!! HELL YEAH???? LITERALLY NEVER TOO OLD TO START WRITING. NEVER TOO OLD TO WRITE AND SHARE YOUR FIC.
her enthusiastic "i'm a very nice and bubbly person, i swear! but i love writing angst and major character death :)" nearly took me the fuck out.
icon. legend. diva. i wish her nothing but a kajillion million comments and kudos. i hope her fic updates crash AO3. i hope she knows i'm promoting her to my personal patron saint of AO3.
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