How Much Do You Love Danny Phantom?
Author's Note: Since "How Much Do You Love Timmy Turner?" has become my most reviewed and most favourited story on this site, I'm trying my hand at a similar style for Danny Phantom. Each oneshot asks someone the titular question and chronicles how they react. This all takes place after "Phantom Planet" and the responses will be coloured by this. I hope you enjoy reading! Feel free to leave a review as well!
Sam Manson
Isn't it obvious how much I love him? Haven't you seen us together on TV? Haven't you read the magazine articles analysing our body language and concluding that we're madly in love?
After Danny saved the world, all the attention has been on us, and it's not letting up. They're following our every move on the news channels. They're asking us when we'll get engaged. They're even inventing names for us on the Internet. (Names I don't really understand. Amethyst Ocean? We're people, not a shampoo. What's wrong with a simple portmanteau, like Brangelina? But I guess we'd have to be Dam, and I'd rather be named after a fruity shampoo than something messy built by beavers.)
Anyway, I think it's pretty clear that we're an item.
But I still need to defend myself. Journalists have been putting out these claims that I'm only into the Phantom side, that ghosts are part of my "Goth thing", that I wouldn't have given Danny a second glance if he'd simply been an average kid that no-one understood.
Well, those rumours are just that – rumours. They only work if you believe the lie that I became his friend after he got his powers. Any Casper High student can tell you that I've actually known Danny since pre-school. In third grade, Danny took the blame when we locked ourselves in the school freezer, even though I'd been the one to lure him in with a tall tale about bottomless ice cream tubs. And in fifth grade, we built a model ghost town for an English project, moulding the glowing green figurines out of ectoplasmic residue from his parents' lab. I've still got the thing at the bottom of my wardrobe (minus the figurines, on Mrs Fenton's orders).
Yes, it probably was seeing Danny flying in ghost form, with sunlight in his hair like a halo, which first pushed us out of our friendship and into our romance. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten what he was like before. He was always cute. He was always funny. He was always there for me when I needed help – he didn't want to let me down. We've made so many memories together and I would never give those up, not even if he lost his ghost powers.
In fact, it's my fault he got his powers at all.
What if I hadn't brought my camera to his house and encouraged Danny to take a look inside the Ghost Portal? What if he had never been zapped with ecto-energy? Would things have been worse if he'd always been normal, if he'd carried on living a boring quiet life? Would things have been better if he didn't become so unusual?
Because – I'm going to be honest with you – Danny and I had a lot of fights about the Accident. There were nights when it seemed as though everything I did was wrong. Tucker threw the Thermos at me and I didn't catch it. I dodged Skulker's blast only for the beam to hit yet another store, costing Amity Park even more in damages. And after an evening of racing hearts and near-misses, a little friendly pointer from me about how Danny could do better next time would make something snap.
He turned around and shouted at me. He said I didn't know what it was like to be hunted like an animal by merciless predators. He said I didn't know what it was like to be afraid of my own parents and run away from their hugs in case I was electrocuted. He said I didn't know what it was like to feel so powerful that I could kill somebody just by blinking. He said I didn't know what it was like to be haunted by visions of a future in which I slaughter innocent people with my bare hands. Those were the nights when I almost thought he would murder me. The air would turn green and everything around us would shake, ready to leap up at his command and tear me to pieces. I won't forget those clenched fists or those bared teeth or those wild eyes or that throbbing vein in his forehead any time soon.
I always thought that being unique was good. But I guess it's also pretty lonely. Danny was right. I didn't know what it was like to be half-ghost. And that meant no-one else knew, except Danny himself (and the fruit loop I'm not going to name). Where was he supposed to go when it all got too much? He couldn't exactly lean on the girl who caused all his problems in the first place. She would make him remember all the problems he wanted to forget.
Sometimes I think I'm going crazy. While Danny's finally accepted his role as the hero of Amity Park, I've been the one screaming spit into his face while he stands there in shock. All the horrors suddenly pile on top of me and I need to offload. Tucker wouldn't have needed to sew any wounds closed if it wasn't for me! The Disasteroid wouldn't have threatened the whole planet if it wasn't for me! That evil future self, who could still break out of his Thermos, wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for me!
I've spent too many evenings crying, apologising, clinging on to Danny and wishing I'd never put him through all that. He keeps peeling my fingers away from his shirt and telling me I'm being ridiculous. I really ought to listen to him.
I mean, a lot of things have changed for the better because of the Accident. Tucker's better with technology; he loved that stuff before, but now he's proved how the weirdest ideas can actually be helpful to somebody. I'm better at standing up for myself; I tried to do that before, but now I feel stronger, and defeat doesn't drain me in the way it used to.
And Danny? He's grown the most out of the three of us. Tucker's still obviously Tucker, and I'm still obviously me, but sometimes, when a ghost attacks, I watch Danny leap into action and I forget about the nervous dork he used to be. I see a warrior with a Thermos, fighting to defend the things he cares about. I see a soldier with snow-white hair, promising to protect his town for as long as he lives. I see a guardian angel in a black jumpsuit.
I see a man.
