IMPORTANT! Some things may change, but I'm thinking it'll be the same for the most part. Basically, "Distractions" is just a bunch of melded together cliché plots. (As many as could plausibly fit together, off the top of my head, and the ones I'm just interested in!) WARNING: I wouldn't suggest expecting the whole story to come out in this quality. It may be better, may get worse...
I don't really watch the show anymore *ducks tomatoes* but I'm really into the fics! So I've decided to get the ideas off my head! They're really getting bothersome when I'm trying to sleep. Of course, as soon as I start writing them, all the inspiration will leave, and I will be left with nothing but the first few chapters and some highly-agitated readers. Well, c'est la vie!
*Sigh* Do we have to go through this every time? *Lawyers smile evilly* "No." O.o I don't own Danny Phantom! *faces fall*
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not my sister! I'm sorry I'm not everything you ever wanted!"
Danny slammed the door full force, breathing heavily as he made his way down the street. He began the long walk to the outskirts of the city, yearning for the comfort and solitude of his cave. The burning self-loathing he'd created during his parents' conversation fueled the anger kindling inside him. But as he walked on, his angry expression turned to one of despondency.
Mom and Dad were right; I'm never going to amount to anything. His grades seemed to be lacking just to spite him. His dreams had all been dashed against the rocks three years ago. He reached an alleyway, transforming so that he could fly to his lair. When he finally reached it, he almost mechanically picked up his sketchbook.
He began to draw the scene of his parents' angry faces in one corner of the paper. Lancer's face came into view next, outlining yet another C- on the history test he had only been able to study about for five minutes. Seconds ticked by as he finished the simple drawings, adding color and life to them, but they only took up the smallest of corners on the pad. His pen seemed to form the next few pictures on its own. A mound of beaten ghosts came into existence under the foot of a white-haired boy, who held a thermos in his left hand, extending a smile to his two friends and sister. In the background was the swirling entrance to the ghost zone, the green light casting an eerie hue around the room. In his right hand, he held the sketchbook he was currently doodling in. His face was exhausted, experience etched into its eyes that no one his age should know exists yet.
To the other side of Phantom's solemn, smiling face was a collage of dreams. NASA rocket models were strewn across a messy room, cracked and dusty. A bed in the very center was the only thing cleared of the papers and clothes that littered the floor. It looked as though it hadn't been slept in for days. Its soft, dark purple comforter beckoned for the tired being on the mound to return to the warm folds.
Yet it was only a drawing, so, try as he might, he would not find the solace of those bed sheets anytime soon.
Danny's ghost sense went off, cutting through his concentration. He hardly lifted his head, though.
Ember appeared before him about five minutes later, fury blazing in her eyes. "Okay, what gives? I've been standing out in that park for hours, bewitching the minds of all the teens in this dump, and you couldn't even spare one plasma ray? Am I not worth your time or something, dipstick?"
Danny still didn't glance up from his sketchbook. The ghost peered over his shoulder to see Phantom on top of half the ghost zone. That was the focal point of the picture, though, so she turned her anger away. It was completely accurate, anyways. As she took in Phantom, Ember finally noticed the somber face and the sunken eyes, the details she had decided to overlook the past few years.
"Phantom…?" she said, a little uncertainly. He met her eyes, his cool, blue ones piercing her very essence. She suddenly flashed back to the sight of someone with eyes very much like his, only they were less… broken, more full of the innocence youth granted him. The Daniel Fenton she was looking at now was not the same Danny he had been during freshman year.
Suddenly, the deep, piercing despair that had filled them so much vanished to be replaced by an empty grin. "It's only been seven minutes, Ember. I was trying to give you a head start," he stated with practiced humor.
Ember wasn't so easily fooled. Biting back an annoyed groan, she began an unexpected therapy session she would never admit to, "What's up?"
He just kept a skeptical eye on her. Then, he asked the last question she'd been expecting, "Are ghosts really that blind?"
Her look of shock must have spurred him onward, "I mean, seriously? Would it kill- er- ruin your afterlife to have waited until after high school to completely screw up my future?"
Ember glanced down at the sketch again, mostly to avoid the teen's piercing gaze. "I hear your teenage years are filled with the most change. Maybe you were meant to get it all over with in one swing?" she half- jokingly replied.
He gave a derisive laugh, leaning against the wall of the cave. "The weirdest thing is that it seems as though you're all planning it. I can just imagine Spectra putting it all in a planner. 'I think I can pencil you in for tomorrow, say about three am? That ought to keep him miserable enough!' Ugh! It's absolutely sick how many nights I haven't slept a wink thanks to you guys." By now, his eyes had closed in a somewhat relaxed position, though Ember could still feel the tension rolling off of him.
She was about to make a crack at his impression of Spectra when she realized something. She voiced her opinions aloud, "No, Phantom, we don't plan who goes when. I don't really think any of us can help it, by now."
"Help what?" he asked, still keeping a derisive tone, "Pushing me off the deep end?"
Ember chuckled now. "And you called us the blind ones. Haven't you realized it by now? No one's sticking to the old schemes, anymore. One by one, you became every ghost's new obsession. You draw us like flies to honey. By now, I don't think any of us could stop pestering you if we tried. Heck, even the benevolent ghosts are obsessed with you. Those Yeti things made a shrine! Now that's dedication."
This news, however, seemed to depress him. "Great," he muttered sarcastically, "Now I really am the reason ghosts attack Amity daily."
"That would have been true either way, dipstick. This joint is the gateway between two worlds."
"Two worlds that I don't belong in," he whispered, staring at his feet.
"That's not it, either. This is the door, baby pop, and it's locked on both sides. Ghosts aren't just obsessed in world domination. We're obsessed in owning the key. Danny, you're that key." Danny gave her a blank look, so she hastily started over, "Let's break this down for you. All cities are humans and ghosts, avoiding each other in all respects other than matters for their gain. Amity Park is the halfa among them, the one that isn't entirely human nor ghost. You belong here, Phantom, just as much as this guitar belongs in my hands."
Danny glanced up at her, processing the words slowly. "Thanks, Ember. I really needed that."
Ember wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. "Don't go all mushy on me now, Phantom. This is a one-time gig." As she flew away, she smiled softly to herself. She remembered being alive as a teenager. It was hard enough without the ghosts he had to deal with. As she mused over this, she never noticed the dark shadow engulfing the entrance to Phantom's lair.
The next morning, Daniel Fenton disappeared, all evidence pointing to the possibility of him running away.
Anybody else agree that J.K. Rowling was just looking to write angst when she wrote the fifth Harry Potter? That's how I felt when I wrote this chapter. I've just been reading too many happy stories, lately. (Does that sound as wrong to you as it does to me?)
OMC! ALL THE SYMBOLISM! I wish my English teachers could see me now! Hope you liked it!
