disclaimer: danny phantom is the intellectual property of butch hartman.
general summary: "a theatrical slang term used to describe when an actor breaks character during a scene - usually laughing or forgetting his or her lines, or by causing another cast member to do so. though the origin of the term is unknown, it refers to almost literally murdering the scene." -urban dictionary
chapter summary: welcome to amity park - watch your step. is the path you walk yours alone do you follow someone else's lead?
WARNINGS!: gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, eldritch speak, casual vandalism - not necessarily in that order
[second verse, same as the first: 1/3]
.
.
.
Vandalism wasn't for people who commit random acts of destruction, it's for people who commit controlled acts of destruction. There's an art to it and anyone who claims otherwise has never properly committed crime before. Good thing Ann is an expert.
It's three in the morning. She should be in bed. She should be dreaming. Ann should be a lot of things that she's not. Oh well. The world will have to deal with it.
Dressed in pajamas when she steps into the lab, Ann takes a deep breath and shivers runs down her small form.
It's suffocating.
The air is cold and sterile. A pressure grows on her chest, threatening to splinter her ribs and grind her insides into a fine red pulp. Ann eyed the incomplete weaponry laid out on tables before her, the beakers and vials arranged neatly, the schematics of future weapons, and what possibly looked to be a Fenton Thermos, and felt her fingers twitch.
Better nip it at the bud.
How did Danny live like this? Ah that's right - He didn't. He died, didn't he? He's gone now. Never coming back.
It would be the understatement of the century to say that Ann hated this place. Maybe it was the lab equipment. Maybe it was the way the walls seemed to press down on her, the feeble prey walking into the predator's trap. Or maybe... maybe it was because this was the resting place of Danny Fenton - And she was an intruder.
A grave robber.
Goosebumps spread across her arms and legs, making their way throughout her entire body. She feels feverish under her shirt's collar. It feels like she's burning from the inside out.
Standing here on the linoleum, the clinical sensations of the lab surrounding her from all sides, Ann asserts her decision. She isn't Danny Fenton. She hasn't been Danny Fenton for over a week, and above all she isn't Danny Phantom.
What is a drop of water to an ocean? A meager ripple swept aside by the tides. So what was a fourteen-year-old boy to a woman over twice his age? Nothing. He was nothing. Danny Fenton was simply no more.
Ann didn't die just to throw her second chance at life away for the sake of others. So she decided to make that message clear for everyone. Nothing spoke louder than vandalism.
Her grip on the object at hand tightens. Careful, she's not yet curious enough to learn if she bled red or not. With an objective in mind, she gets to work.
Danny's biggest threats had been the ghosts, so how do you deal with them?
Certainly not by going around parading yourself as a teen superhero.
You attack the source.
It's larger than what she expected, and a lot more intimidating than it's appearance would otherwise suggest. Ann laid a hand on the black and yellow door, tracing the seam between the metal, before her fingers danced across the rivets and frame. It was cool to the touch, offering a brief respite from the world around her. Behind them she could feel the call of the Zone.
Pulsing in tune with the contaminated blood in her veins. It was hypnotic. Lulling. Soothing. A drone that dominated her every thought and instinct.
Why was she here again? What was she doing by the Ghost Portal? Portal... That's right. That's right. This portal is.. a gateway to beyond. That's where she belonged. Ann wasn't supposed to be here, was she? She's dead. Ann's supposed to be among the dead. And the only way to return with the dead was to open the portal.
Open the portal.
.ʅɐʇɹod ǝɥʇ uǝdO
Cͨoͦmͫeͤ oͦn -̄ Oͦрⷬeͤn ᴛⷮhͪeͤ рⷬoͦrͬᴛⷮaͣl, .
Her blood froze. That name. That name . She hadn't heard that name in forever. How did...?
She needed to destroy that portal yesterday.
The off switch had been built inside the fucking portal by an imbecile, and like hell was she going to open it just to turn it off. It was so very unnerving. It's insidious melody was trying to dig its way inside her and warp her. Mold her into something unrecognizable. The ectoplasm within her resonated with whatever was contained by these doors, and it was violating.
Ann knew without a shadow of a doubt that if the Portal was opened, something would happen. She wasn't sure what would happen, but it would be something beyond her scope of understanding.
Ϩⲟⲙⲉⲧⲏⲓⲛ𝓰 ⲙⲁ𝓰ⲛⲓ𝓯ⲓⲥⲉⲛⲧ, it crooned.
Ann heaved a shuddering sigh.
There had been a plug in the opening sequence, Ann remembered that much. Jack had plugged it in and.. and... Where was it? Where the fuck was it?
There.
Kneeling on the floor before the spaghetti of wires, Ann placed the scissors beside her and pulled the plug from its socket. Just like that it was done.
If a tree is felled and no one is around to hear it, did it ever really exist?
She was here. Listening to the exact moment it's singing was cut off. Ann was here. Here to snuff it out of existence.
It felt like blowing out a candle, when in reality it was as though a vacuum had appeared out of nowhere and swallowed a star. In one fell swoop, it was gone just like that.
All that remained of it was an annoying ringing between her ears.
The wires. Where are the wires?
She can't just cut them outright, that would be an immediate cause for suspicion. So Ann yanks at them, snips a few of them and hacks away at the rest. Once she places the scissors on a nearby desk, she reaches for the trashcan and peeks inside.
Bingo - last night's dinner.
It's nostalgic. This was all nostalgic. She supposed it made for a fitting goodbye to her previous life. After all is said and done, she will live. She will live this life for herself and no one else. Ann did that once a lifetime ago and she had failed. This time... This time she'll get it right.
.
.
Ann jerked awake nearly falling out of bed, to shouting, a furious knocking, and bleary eyes.
Her sleep schedule may have taken a nosedive but that didn't have to stop her from appreciating catnaps.
She stumbles her way across the room, pawing the sleep from her eyes, before opening the door.
Behind it, a young teen only a couple inches on her with an impressive bed head of amber knots and loose curls around her head. Freckles had been sprinkled across every inch of visible skin with a set of aquamarine eyes boring holes into her. Her broad shoulders had been pulled down into a slouch. Poor girl seconds away from keeling over.
Good morning, Jasmine Fenton.
"So... Where's the fire?", Ann yawned, mouth clicking shut with a grimace. Ugh, morning breath. Jazz seemed to hold similar thoughts going off her grimace
"No fire - Just rats." She actually blinked at that. Rats? That.. was not what she expected. Of all the conclusions they could have arrived at, they chose rats ?
"Rats?" Better not look a gift horse in the mouth then. What's done is done. If she weren't so invested in her survival she might have been offended. Scratch that. If Ann was even the slightest bit emotionally invested in these people, well...
"Rats. " Her sister confirmed with an ugly twist of her lips. How a kid managed to fill so much contempt into the word was rather funny. The shouting seems to have died down at least.
"Do I have time to shower?"
The teen grunted before trudging off.
"That's not a no!"
Ann dragged a hand across the fogged mirror, inspecting her new pubescent self with a hand to her chin. There was a charm to the real Danny Fenton, she supposed. Damp raven locks, sky blue irises, and a splash of freckles spread across her olive complexion.
Of course, who could forget the Lichtenberg figures.
Flowering their way across her body like untamed fauna of pinks and silvers, the healed burns branched out over her undeveloped chest, curling around her limbs like possessive ivy. She patted her scarred cheeks, pulled at her bottom lip and made faces at her reflection.
Danny Fenton was cute the same way puppies were cute.
Ann sighed.
Cute as a button didn't automatically win her over. She could work with this, however. Adjustments would have to be made for her... condition , but it would be a long while before results showed themselves.
Ann didn't like it. She could tolerate it, but she didn't necessarily have to like it. The current teen snorted. Not too different from before, huh? For now, she supposed she could roll with the punches.
Metaphorically speaking, of course. There was no way in hell Ann was going to go looking for a fight.
Ann's first step outside of Fenton Works is to the crisp morning air of August with the taste of burnt pancakes on her tongue and the sight of death everywhere. Amity Park is home to the dead, that bit really shouldn't surprise her.
Ann followed the ginger-haired teen at a leisurely pace while resisting the urge to gawk. The woman-turned-teen wasn't even exaggerating, they were everywhere ; from shambling spirits vanishing around the corner, glowing globs of green swimming airily like jellyfish, to the shoddy imitation of crows cawing from their place atop electrical lines. Those things had way too many eyes to be anatomically correct.
Look away!
"Danny, please try and keep up!", Jazz sighed. It was quite a contrast with the Jazz of half an hour ago. Her bird's nest had been tamed and straightened, her freckles hidden under layers of concealer; her sister had chiseled away the imperfections upon herself, crafting this image of flawlessness into existence.
"I know high school seems intimidating now, but it gets better - I promise." Unaware of the feelings she'd carelessly dragged out of her younger sibling, Jazz moved onward.
Her insides churned uncomfortably.
Fuck. One would think she would have grown accustomed to it, but no. With every call of that damned name, it was slowly becoming a reminder of what she is and isn't. And most importantly, she wasn't Danny Fenton - but she couldn't go around saying that now could she?
Ann grumbled, "I'm coming, I'm coming", breaking out into a light jog. She grit her teeth the entire way, the weight between her legs seemingly increasing with every step.
God, just don't think about it.
So she diverts her attention to the world around her.
She focuses on the overwhelming scent of early morning traffic. The feel of her faded red high tops hitting against the pavement. The drone of people chattering serving as background noise, rolling over her scarred skin, heading towards their destination. Ann ignores how the fabric of her clothes snag at her scars and rub at her most delicate bits. Her eyes follow the almost metronome-like sway of Jazz's long flowing hair.
Static began to scratch at the recesses of her mind. The smell of burning rubber and asphalt invaded her nostrils. Followed by the cloying taste of cotton candy. Ann licked the roof of her mouth. She could taste iron. Did she bite herself?
date finished published: 15/11/2020 • word count: 1,885 • edit: 07/02/2021
note: i finally finished it! yay!
find me on tumblr under the same name. i'll drop lots of lore and ideas on my story there and i welcome anyone who wants to brainstorm with me. and check out the-punning-ubus and their art blog coolingdownanddrawing. they're the one who inspired me to write this fic and are also working on their own au called doppel duties.
edit: i've rewritten the entirety of the first chapter. if you're new, the changes shouldn't affect you.