Overview: A piece written for Danny Phantom involving him befriending the Ghostwriter with the instruction that the piece have no dialogue within it.
Fandom: Danny Phantom
Relationship: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom/Ghostwriter | Andrew Riter
Characters: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom, Ghostwriter | Andrew Riter
Rating: Teen Audiences
Word Count: 5,037
Summary: Danny Fenton had dealt with a lot of ghosts in his time as Phantom, but none of them had ever quite been so human as the Ghostwriter; none of them had ever been as annoying, either. (Posted to AO3)
Human
This was not how Danny had planned on spending the last day of his winter break; his homework-free winter break that was now, due in large part to actual pity, also ghost-free. It was a ghost-free, paper-free, stress-free last day of winter break and Danny had been planning to use it to sleep, play games, sleep, eat, sleep, and sleep in that order. That was how he had planned the day. Sleeping, eating, or even playing video games, however, was not what he was doing.
Instead of his soft, well-worn bed, Danny was uncomfortably slouched over in a wooden chair that looked to have been donated to three different elementary schools before ending up in the ‘bookstore cafe’ that he and his friends were trapped in; or at least, Danny and Tucker were trapped. Sam, the vicious vulture with perfect winged eyeliner that she was, looked to honestly be enjoying the cringe-filled ‘poetry’ that other goth teenagers were reading up on the small stage.
The words were as out-of-focus as his gaze and Danny’s thoughts had turned towards wondering if he could fall asleep sitting up with his eyes open before a wisp of cool air slipped through his parted lips, a sensation like being zapped sparking down his spine until it was perfectly straight, his chair scooting back from the sudden movement.
Opening his mouth to explain, Danny was instead met with a sharp shushing sound, Sam giving him one of her looks that could essentially be translated into a rough: take care of this quietly and quickly because if you ruin this for me then I’ll make sure you’re the next one up on that stage.
Tucker, at least, looked mildly sympathetic as Danny took the soundless warning to heart and slipped out of his seat before silently making his way towards the men’s bathroom to change and find out which ghost wanted to ruin the last of his break.
That had been the plan, at least, until he looked up and caught sight of the ghost himself and saw just which one it was.
Danny could honestly say that he hadn’t expected the Ghostwriter to be the one that had set off his ghost sense, but, well. It made sense. Christmas was over and if it was one thing a ghost loved, it was revenge; especially when it was revenge against Danny Phantom.
The interesting thing, though, the thing that made Danny stop and instead change direction towards the ‘bar’ that only sold overpriced and watered down coffee where it was quiet and dim and easy to hide, was that Ghostwriter wasn’t looking all that, well… ghostly.
Ghostwriter was still wearing that stupid trench coat that was purple along with his depressing grey clothing, but he wasn’t glowing or flying or declaring his revenge in a theatrical tone like Technus or Skulker or even the Box Ghost might. There was no I will destroy you, ghost child! or This time, it’s going to be you who rots behind bars! or even Hey, you fuck!
No, it was just… Ghostwriter. His skin was still a washed out grey sort of color, but without the ghostly glow that lit it all up, he just looked like a tired college student who might have been coming down with the flu and had trudged in out of the cold to look for a book to finish off a last-minute paper. He just looked so human, which, Danny mused, might have been all the more reason to worry. A ghost didn’t go to those lengths to disguise himself unless there was something to hide.
Stepping out of the shadows, and fully prepared to make a scene no matter how much Sam hated him after it was over, Danny watched as Ghostwriter walked around the edges of the tables and chairs that were pointed towards the stage, looked around the building slowly and carefully, and then…
He was reading. The ghost who had almost ruined his life and destroyed his Christmas had walked up to a bookshelf, poked around for a few seconds, and then started to read one of the books like it was something he did all the time.
Danny almost thought that the gods might have finally smiled upon him and blessed him just enough to where he wouldn’t have to deal with a ghost fight on his last day of winter break, but then he remembered just what kind of bookstore he was in.
If Sam had managed to find a book on the Fright Knight in a place like this, he dreaded to think what a ghost who could change reality and knew what he was looking for could find.
Saying a silent goodbye to his peace and quiet, and almost managing to dredge up just a speck of regret for the poetry ‘jam’ that was about to get broken up, Danny took a step forward and immediately froze when he met bright green eyes.
The two were utterly quiet, but Danny fancied that he could hear what would no doubt be a smug I see you, ghost boy.
Danny made sure to give his best glare back, channeling the rage he usually only felt when dealing with Vlad. The rage that screamed, loud and clear, If you even think of hurting anyone here it’ll be the last thing you do.
Instead of showing the appropriate amount of fear and shuffling out of the store in a burst of sensibility, Danny watched as the Ghostwriter laughed, putting the book he had been reading back onto the shelf and then disappearing around the corner to the next one.
Danny wasted no time, half-running over to the shelf and grabbing up the book that the ghost had just been looking at to see what unnatural disaster he was about to deal with next. It was like ice sliding down his spine as he saw that it was just… a book. There was nothing special about it beyond the fact it was a lame book about some old poetry. It was normal with a normal twisted plastic cover and normal bent pages that had been rifled through a time too many. Which meant Ghostwriter was fucking with him.
Rounding the shelf, Danny kept his energy close to the surface, ready to snap into his changed form at a moment’s notice as he watched Ghostwriter set down another book he had picked up, glancing back to Danny. This time the smirk screamed, Nothing you could do would stop me.
It was enough to have Danny clenching his fists hard enough to make his palms bleed, wisps of green energy starting to curl through his fingers as he bared his teeth in a very clear, Try me.
Ghostwriter vanished around another corner and Danny rushed to inspect the book he had been looking through, pissed to see that it was just another lame paperback book about poetry a decade too old that made it obvious that the ghost really was just screwing with him.
And that’s how it kept going. Danny followed Ghostwriter around the store, flipping through the books the ghost had been reading and trying to piece together what he could be up to.
Instead of some grand scheme of revenge, though, Danny was looking through beaten up books of poetry, old nonfiction books about trains and air transportation that weren’t about airplanes, and a bright yellow and white How To book about how to play piano. It was that one that almost had Danny throwing the book at Ghostwriter himself to see if it would start a fight just to get the tension over with.
Danny glared at nothing as he slammed the most recent book back onto one of the countless shelves, not caring if it was the proper spot or not as he turned around to keep following after Ghostwriter before feeling his heart stop at seeing the ghost directly in front of him and a few inches away.
It took an eternity to make sure Danny hadn’t somehow been scared straight into his ghost form before he realized there was a ghost only a few inches away from him. He didn’t even manage to call up his energy, though, before what was clearly a book was tossed at him.
Years of living with Jazz and her psychopathic librarian tendencies had Danny catching the book before any damage could come to it, a quick look up to Ghostwriter showing the ghost was smirking, as if to say, Your move, ghost boy. What now?
Danny opened his mouth to tell the Ghostwriter just where he could shove his pretentious attitude before the sound of snapping fingers distracted him just enough to glance over at the crowd of goths that were taking up the space. A look back to the ghost had Danny losing what was at least seven years of his life because the fucker was gone.
Gripping the book he had caught tightly, Danny slammed it down against a half-working radiator that looked older than the store, freezing when he saw a piece of torn notebook paper slip out of the pages and flutter down towards the ground. Danny managed to snatch it up before it hit, looking at it suspiciously before turning it around and blinking at seeing the writing that was there. He half-thought it might have been a note some former nerd left behind as a placeholder, but that thought was quickly broken when he saw just what the words spelled out.
There, in a neat, curling script that could only mean the writer was a pretentious control freak, were the words, Until next we meet, Phantom.
It was a declaration of war and Danny was all too happy to meet it, vowing that he would destroy Ghostwriter molecule by molecule as he stomped back to his seat (after moving the book off the radiator), another goth nerd already up on stage and reciting what sounded like a sea shanty turned into a spoken word that was then read as a eulogy.
Danny felt some of his rage drain out of him by the sheer confusion he felt at hearing what he was absolutely sure was not English, but the last of it was wiped away clear when he felt his phone buzz with a message from Tucker, who was looking at him with a worried expression.
A quick glance to the message showed just what Danny had expected, a simple, ‘if we talk sam will kill us. you alright?’
Reading the message over another time or two, Danny gave a quick nod before backtracking and shaking his head at Tucker’s unimpressed look. Opening his mouth, and seeing Sam shoot him a look as if she had eyes in the back of her horns, Danny instead turned towards his phone, typing out a quick, ‘Not bad but it pisses me off when a ghost comes in here obviously picking a fight and then leaves without actually fighting I mean what the hell is that about?’
‘sounds like the dude was scoping out the enemy you know? did he do or say anything or something like that? cause you know i’ll leave and back you up no matter how much it would break my heart to not hear the rest of this beautiful poetry on stage.’
Danny had to smother a laugh into his fist and turn it into a weak cough that hopefully didn’t sound too fake, Tucker beaming proudly and sticking out like a sore thumb among all the dour goths crammed together. Danny let him have the moment before kicking his chair – just to keep him humble. ‘Nah I think he already left can’t sense him anymore at least but he didn’t even say anything he just left a note that was basically calling me out for a fight next time we meet.’
‘yikes. sounds like the dude still isn’t over the whole xmas thing. need me to do any research and see if i can’t try to find something out about the dude?’
‘Nah I already know how his powers work and his keyboard thing was busted so it’s not like he can stick me in a poem again I’ll just wait and deal with him when he comes looking for a fight he won’t win.’
Danny tucked his phone away as Tucker snickered behind his own, turning his attention back to whatever car crash was happening on stage, mind already focused on his plans for the war that Ghostwriter had declared.
War had been the plan, at least, until a week passed with no fight with the Ghostwriter and Danny started asking for advice over the problem that was starting to make him twitchy with nerves over nothing happening. Ghosts, in his experience, usually didn’t wait long before getting revenge.
Long talks with Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and even his Mom, who had been the most judgmental out of all of them, had ended up with Danny calling in a favor to a way too amused Clockwork before toting a glowing book that hurt his eyes to look at to a library that he still half wanted to freeze into a giant ice block before shattering it and hiding the remains in the Far Frozen.
It wasn’t like he had started the Christmas fight that had almost ended up destroying all of his relationships in his everyday life, and, really, when one thought about it, Ghostwriter was as big a dick as Danny was. Honestly, ‘until next we meet?’ It wasn’t like that could be anything but a declaration of war!
It was still a challenge Danny was all for if the nerd ever followed through on it, but now if he actually returned the book he had accidentally (which was very important to point out since he hadn’t started the fight) destroyed, then that meant he had the moral high ground and he was right; or something to that effect, at least.
Overall, it was why Danny took great satisfaction in throwing the book in the nerd’s face as soon as the library doors opened way too dramatically, taking a moment to gleefully enjoy the annoyed rage that faded into shocked awe and oh, yeah. Danny was just that good.
While the ghost looked down at the book with wide eyes, Danny took a quick moment to really notice how, even in the Ghost Zone, the dude still looked human. His skin looked way more pale and grey, of course, what with all the crazy lighting and green, but he still could have passed as a human with just a few changes. It was… weird.
The only other ‘human’ ghosts he had really been around was Ember, Johnny, and Kitty. While Kitty’s skin tone could have been sick human, her hair was way too ghostly to ever pass, and Ember was the same with her hair, and Johnny- Well, no, he pretty much had been human as long as he suppressed that glowing thing that all ghosts did. Jazz had almost ended up dating him he looked human enough. Maybe it had something to do with age. Ghostwriter didn’t-
Focus. Danny was here for a reason and that reason was to prove that, obviously, he was the better ghost.
It took hours before Ghostwriter finally looked up at him, opening his mouth to no doubt annoy Danny into his full death. He made sure to cut it off by pointing to the piece of paper that was sticking out of the book. It was a simple note that read:
Nerd.
You can thank Clockwork for this since he owed me a favor or I owe him one. Not sure. It’s Clockwork. Enjoy and stay the fuck out of my town and my life.
Fuck you.
Danny made sure that by the time Ghostwriter finished the note he was well on his way back to the Amity Park portal, confident with his carefully calculated risk that his hands were washed of the mess that was the Ghostwriter.
⁂
Danny had honestly expected to be done dealing with ghostly business for at least a few weeks after his Christmas. He should have been done with the Ghostwriter, all debts should have been repaired, and there should have been absolutely no reason for that ghost, or any other ghost, to be anywhere near him or his town.
Honestly, when thinking about just the Ghostwriter business, Danny was the one who had suffered the most. He couldn’t just get rid of the trauma he had gone through that Christmas, but Ghostwriter had gotten his book back?
No matter how it played out, Danny was the one who suffered the most in the whole scenario, which was why he couldn’t figure out why, a week or something like it later, he was staring groggily at a glowing book that was on his desk on a morning he had to be up early for school.
The winter sun was too dim to light up his room like it might have if it was summer and all of Danny’s lamps were either turned off or burned out from where he had been sleeping, so there really was nothing to cause the glow around the book except the book itself – which meant it was a ghost book. That meant it was a trap. A trap in the morning. Danny really had thought that ghosts had better manners than that.
Scrubbing at his eyes and suppressing the urge to mutter words that he had no doubt his mother would hear even with doors and possibly two floors between them, Danny dragged himself to his feet and stumbled over to the glowing book with a title that looked like it had first been written in crayon before being properly typed or drawn.
Except the longer he stared at the title the more it seemed to make sense, Danny squinting before finally managing to at least make out the word history, which, ugh, did some ghost prank him with a ghostly history textbook? This had Poindexter written all over it.
Snatching the book with a solid plan of hiding it in his backpack until he could throw it back into the Ghost Zone, Danny paused at the fluttering piece of paper that slipped free of the pages and tumbled towards the floor.
Danny made sure to wait at least seven seconds to make sure it wasn’t another form of trap, lightly nudging the piece of paper with his foot before nodding and picking it up, mentally ruling out Poindexter as a suspect and adding in Plasmius. It would be just like that Fruitloop to give him some kind of test or riddle or… familiar looping scrawl that Danny had last seen in a bookshop. For a moment, he could only think that he forgot, in his calculated risk, that he was bad at math.
Phantom,
Thank you for the miraculous recovery and return of my written works that came to a gruesome end this past Yule. While your own correspondence left much to be desired, the return is appreciated.
I’m writing to you now due to the discovery of this book during one of my searches. While I’m certain that you already have a thorough understanding of the Spirit World and its inhabitants, it occurred to me that you might not yet be aware of certain specifics.
Please feel free to peruse this book at your leisure before returning it to my library at your discretion. I would prefer to have it returned within a fortnight but will be most understanding if it happens to take longer.
Regards,
Ghostwriter
Danny had to read through the note four times before he finally crumpled it into a ball and threw it on his desk because no matter how many times he read the words his early morning brain was simply not going to be able to process that. God, the Ghostwriter was like if his sister was a boy and had become a ghost while studying for her finals or something.
The moment it took to process the thought had a shiver running up Danny’s spine, resolve hardened as he dug around through his desk until he found a cheap pen and a crumpled piece of paper that he quickly smoothed out before using it to articulate his thoughts and feelings perfectly.
Ghostwriter
I said stay out of my town and my life and this is doing none of those things. Look it’s plain to see that this book is some kind of trap I mean let me guess you stole it from Plasmius and now you’re gonna pin it on me? As if I don’t have enough problems with the Fruitloop fucking thanks.
Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to give you this book back. You’re going to take it. You’re going to keep out of Amity Park. The next time I see you or any other books in this town I will BURN THEM ON PURPOSE. The last thing I need to deal with in life is another ghost out to kill me for something that’s no longer my fault.
REGARDS
Fuck you
Biting the blunt end of his pen, Danny read over the letter a time or two to make sure it had everything he wanted to say before nodding and slipping the piece of paper between the cover and the first page of the still glowing book. God, the sooner he got the thing out of his room the better. It had probably already tripped at least three ghost sensors in his house.
A quick check of the time until he was meant to be at school, and a weighing of his options, had Danny swearing (very quietly) to himself and triggering his change into his ghost form. An hour wasn’t much time to get things done, but it would be enough to get rid of a book.
Besides, Danny hadn’t really thought of the Plasmius thing until he wrote his letter, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. A ghost was too weak to take him on? Send Plasmius. It was the perfect plan and, actually, one Danny could maybe use against some of the more annoying ghosts. Plus, it’d just be hilarious to see Plasmius go up against Technus. The two would probably monologue at each other for hours– Focus.
Danny had a book to get rid of, a day to get ready for, and at least three classes to sleep in. He couldn’t do that until Ghostwriter was dealt with.
Dropping down through the second and first floor and into the basement with the book still in hand, Danny shot towards the portal with a burst of speed, shivering at the feeling that washed over him as he did so. It always felt like a wave of static that rolled over his skin only without any of the pain. He had explained it to Sam and Tucker once as the feeling just before getting shocked, but both of them had looked at him like he was crazy, so maybe it was a half-ghost thing.
Making a mental note to try and taunt the answer out of Vlad later, Danny focused on getting to the stupid library Ghostwriter lived in, which, really. Who lived in a library? It was so stupid.
It was close enough, though, and Danny was sure it hadn’t even taken ten minutes before he was moving to bang on the doors. He didn’t even get a single knock in before the doors were opening smoothly, no one on the other side to annoy him.
A glance at the book, the empty doorway, and back towards the direction he had come from had Danny cycling through excuses even as he stepped inside, nodding to himself when the doors closed behind him with a very obvious locking noise because of course they did. That was just his life, wasn’t it?
Biting the inside of his cheek until the urge to either scream or swear passed, Danny managed a slow breath, half-remembering something Jazz had told him about counting his breathing or whatever, and then continued on into the library, book clutched tightly in his hand as he contemplated just leaving it on the floor to be found later.
Annoyed as he was, it took him way too long before he realized that the library he was in wasn’t silent. Instead of the silence he had expected, there was a soft, gentle chiming noise.
It wasn’t overpowering like what he would hear from some of Jazz’s guided meditation tapes that she played way too loudly when stressed over testing, but it was something that reminded him of the windchimes in Sam’s greenhouse when they tucked themselves away in there in the winter, humid air warming them up and taking away the sting of the cold winters that Amity Park was known for.
The soft chimes reminded him of his friend’s laughter at all of his bad jokes and the peaceful silence that came from being around people who didn’t expect anything out of him. It was a sound that had something in him relaxing.
The more he relaxed, the more he realized that the library he was in was actually kind of cool. At first it had looked like some official capital library kind of thing with too tall bookshelves and carpet that was enough to make him think it was ugly, but the further he walked into the library the more different it looked.
He wasn’t sure if it was a ghost thing or just the library he was in, but a glance down showed the carpet slowly and smoothly changed from the burnt looking red it had been into a cool purple that felt soft when Danny chanced landing and walking instead of flying. It wasn’t exactly like he was sinking into it, but he could see himself spread out on the floor during a study session and being comfortable enough.
The shelves, if possible, were more surprising in their changes than the carpet. Instead of towering, structured shelves like something out of Jazz’s dream, the bookshelves became lopsided and mismatched like each one had been found in a thrift shop or an antique store or something.
Some of them looked nice enough, but others had obviously crooked shelves and slanted tops and there were even more that had dark spots in the wood that showed some form of weather damage. It was straight out of Jazz’s nightmare, but something about all the clunky, mismatched shelves filled with books both glowing and not made it all look… human.
There were low tables and chairs of different sizes spread around, couches and armchairs decades old that looked like they had been dragged to a certain corner and left forgotten, and lamps of all different shapes and sizes spread out in a way that made no sense.
It was something out of a fever dream and Danny couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that, if nothing else, he had finally found a library he liked – a library that belonged to a ghost that did not act like he would be able to handle living in such a messy, crazy place. No matter how he looked at it, the place he was in just didn’t look like somewhere Ghostwriter could live.
Danny probably would have poked around even more if he hadn’t noticed that the soft chiming noises had stopped and instead been replaced with soft muttering that almost sounded like swearing. The voice was just familiar enough that Danny was pushing forward, drawing to a stop as he saw Ghostwriter was… not looking like Ghostwriter.
The ghost was curled up into an overstuffed armchair that, like everything else, looked like it had come from a completely different decade. That part alone was strange enough, but the truly strange part was the fact Ghostwriter was sitting half propped up against one side with his legs thrown over the other side, a laptop resting in his lap as he glared at a screen that looked bright enough he could already hear his mom telling him that he was going to ruin his eyes.
That wasn’t even the worst of it. Instead of mania and cackling and making Danny’s life a living hell, the ghost looked tired as if he hadn’t slept- Danny hadn’t thought ghosts slept, but the proof was in front of him considering he saw bags under the other’s eyes. There was also the fact Ghostwriter’s hair was an utter wreck, as if he had run a hand through it like Danny did to his own hair and, just a few feet away, the man’s stupid coat was thrown over the back of a couch and, to top it all off, he was wearing no shoes and instead just socks.
He looked human.
The thought had passed through his head again and again over the days he had been dealing with Ghostwriter, but the other was just so human.
There was no grandstanding or monologuing or crazy plan or revenge scheme, but instead somebody curled up and working on their laptop and relaxing in what was obviously their home.
What couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds and Ghostwriter was freezing and snapping his head up to look at him, something in his eyes going from hard and sharp to confused and surprised as he seemed to realize that, yes, Danny Phantom was standing in front of him.
Later Danny would explain, if only to himself, that it was the scrunched up expression the ghost made that decided it; the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the twisted little expression of his mouth that looked stupid enough to laugh at, and the crazy hair that was near standing on end with how much it had obviously been abused.
In that moment, though, Danny could only hold the book he had brought behind his back, slipping out the note he had written and crumpling it up before letting it turn to ash in his hand.
Once that was done, he opened his mouth to speak.