A Very Scary Christmas!
This idea came to me out of nowhere. Then, I had to wait until I'd finished up Part Five. So glad I could at least post the first chapter before Christmas! I'm gonna be winging it even more than usual. XD
On a related note, I introduce someone in this chapter who, in my mind, is voiced by J.K. Simmons. If I can't unhear it, neither can any of you.
Chapter One: Deck the Halls
"Next to a circus there ain't nothing that packs up and tears out faster than the Christmas spirit." - Frank McKinney Hubbard
Ah, Christmas. A day meant for being with the ones you love. For relaxing by the fire with a piping hot mug of cocoa in one hand and a cookie in the other. And, who could forget about the presents? Yes, Christmas day truly is the most wonderful day of the year.
Unless you're me and you have to spend the whole day listening to your parents bicker about how either Santa left those extra presents (Dad) or they'd simply forgotten they bought them (Mom).
It's a very unfortunate tradition in my family. All December long, Mom and Dad are at each other's throats over the existence of a certain fat man in a red suit. Their arguments start out very mild, just a comment here and there. But it steadily gets worse as Christmas day draws nearer.
Why, no. It does not stop on Christmas day. Why would you even ask such a thing? Do you think Jack and Maddie Fenton are normal people who are willing to agree to disagree so that their beloved offspring can enjoy the holiday? Because that's not a thing in our house, and I want to jam coal down their throats!
I try to let it go. I do! But, it's so hard when it's right there. At some points, I'm tempted to go ghost right in front of them just to give them something else to talk about. It's that bad!
Thankfully, there is one redeeming factor about this holiday.
Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and I told our parents we were volunteering at a soup kitchen in the next town. What we're actually doing is sneaking off to a Christmas party in the Ghost Zone.
On the December holidays - Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and yes, Christmas - ghosts have a strict no-fighting rule. The circumstances don't matter. You behave yourself on those days. This is why when the team and I arrive at the party and see Ember McClain singing Jingle Bell Rock and Hutch Blairman filming her with his old-timey camera, we aren't worried. Though, I know I'm not the only one who will be avoiding them at all costs.
The party is in the lair of Reaper, an Ancient known as the Master of Death. Despite what their title would suggest, Reaper is very kind and friendly and laid-back. Likewise, their Christmas party is a classy event. No loud music or hard drinks. Just a large get-together with people mingling and enjoying the soothing atmosphere that the gothic-mansion-like structure always has to offer. Albeit, with more colorful decorations than usual.
Just what Jazz and I need after spending the day listening to Mom and Dad scream at each other.
We all came dressed for occasion, even Sam, who already went through her eight days of holiday magic. She's wearing a gray sweater featuring Jack Skellington in a Santa hat. Jazz is wearing a dark blue long-sleeve shirt covered in snow flakes. I was going to just wear my usual black jumpsuit, but my girlfriend, who is meeting us here, convinced me to "be festive." So came the first time my ghost-form changed clothes. (It's not as gross as it sounds. The clothes on a ghost's body are essentially a body part that they can change but usually don't. Think of it like the shell on a hermit crab.) For one day only, Danny Phantom is wearing red and white sneakers, light blue jeans, and a green long-sleeve shirt with the words "This is my ugly sweater." in what I think is Times New Roman font.
What? I can be a smart-ass.
As for Tucker, he's got his own thing going. Every year since we started really noticing girls, he's worn that headband with a mistletoe dangling off it for Christmas. And every year, he strikes out. And, at least one girl strikes him. The man is determined if nothing else.
He takes off while the rest of us set our gifts on the table in the back with the other presents. Those will be distributed later.
Sam lets out a low whistle as she scans the crowd. "Quite a turn-out."
"Well," Jazz says, "Reaper does welcome anyone and everyone."
Specifically, anyone who needs a safe haven is welcome here. That's what I admire the most about my grim: their selfless desire to help. Since helping others is my Obsession, I can relate.
But, today is all about fun.
"Uh, Danny," Tucker walks up to me, looking sheepish, his mistletoe bouncing with each step. "In accordance with The Bro Code, I feel I should apologize because," he points toward the kitchen, "I accidentally flirted with your girlfriend. In my defense, I saw her from behind, and I'm used to seeing her in that beanie and jean jacket."
Sam and Jazz stifle laughter. I grin and shake my head. "As long as it was an accident and she didn't reciprocate, it's all good."
I excuse myself and walk into the kitchen. My girlfriend's Obsession is food, so I'm not surprised that Tucker found her there. There are several other ghosts enjoying the refreshments, but my eyes lock a specific one right away.
Mira Scott and I have been dating for a little over a month, and I'm not sure if we're still in the honeymoon phase or if we're just one of those couples. Mira is two years older than me, though she is only about as tall as my chin. She has glowing green skin and deep red eyes that are human in all but the color of her irises. Her perpetually tangled dark green hair hangs down her back in a braid, and like Tucker said, she lacks her usual striped beanie, sporting a headband with sparkly antlers in its place. She is also wearing gray boots, black leggings, and a red sweater featuring Snoopy tangled up in Christmas lights. She is currently sucking on a candy cane.
Her face lights up when I walk over to her, and my stomach still flutters at the sight.
Then she takes in my "festive" attire with pursed green lips and a raised eyebrow and points to my shirt with the half-eaten candy cane. "This is festive?"
I scoff, though Jazz did warn me this might happen. I point to my very festive shirt. "Green." Then to my sneakers. "Red and white. You're lucky I didn't just wear a red shirt and point out my hair and eye colors." Which in this form are white and neon green respectively.
Mira huffs and rolls her eyes. "You're late, by the way."
That, I will concede to. I rub the back of my neck. "I know. Sorry. Even with my parents distracted, it wasn't easy sneaking everyone down to the lab without setting off any sensors." And alerting my ghost hunter parents to the presence of anything not of Earth, is what I don't need to add.
"It's okay," Mira says. She smiles that sweet smile and puts her arms around my shoulders. "Merry Christmas."
I rest my gloveless hands on her curvy waist. "Is now," I say before bending down for a quick kiss that tastes like peppermint, no mistletoe required. Like always, a little zip runs through me at the contact, and I still can't decide if that's an emotional thing for me or if it's just her Electrokinesis acting up. I'm fine either way.
Someone mutters for us to get a room. I bite back a snark about how we are in a room.
I keep my arm around my girlfriend's waist as we leave this room to join the guys. Mira leans into me, and I think we are one of those couples. Oh, well.
"Don't tell me your parents are still fighting," Mira whines on my behalf. "It's Christmas! Isn't this the one day of the year you're supposed to not fight?"
I sigh and run my free hand over my face. "Sadly, that's not how it works. Christmas day is when the Santa debate is at its worst. Then it slowly tapers off until January when they act like it never happened. I try to ignore it, but…" I sigh again.
"Well then, I guess we can forgive your lack of festivity," Mira says with a tug on my shirt. "I offered to let you have dinner with my family. My parents wouldn't have minded, and my uncles and cousin would love you."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But, they're still my mom and dad. For better or worse."
There's some kind of commotion, and people start leaping out of the way of something small on the ground. The irritation turns to amusement when that something leaps into my arms and starts aggressively licking my face. Cujo is a regular visitor to Reaper's lair, but everyone knows I'm his favorite.
Cujo is a small, chubby dog-ghost with glowing green fur, short black ears, and a spiked collar with the Axion Labs logo on it. The working theory is that he was a guard dog there when he was alive. Though he only looks the part when he's angry and grows into a monstrous beast. But, we won't have to worry about that today. With all the attention and extra snacks I'm sure he's getting, he's wagging his tail and shaking so hard from excitement, I'd be more worried about puddles if he wasn't a ghost.
"Merry Christmas to you too, Cujo," I giggle when he's finished drenching me in ectoplasm.
"Hey, Cujo," Mira greets. Cujo doesn't hesitate to lick her hand when she tries to pet him, making her laugh as well. "How's the holiday now, Danny?"
"Significantly more bearable," I say.
We weave through the crowd and fail to find our human friends, though a ghost we know well makes an appearance. Even if they weren't eight feet tall, Reaper is easy to spot in a crowd; just look for where everyone makes a path out of respect because an Ancient walks among them. As for what the Master of Death actually looks like, I couldn't tell you. Every time I see them, they wear a brown cloak that covers all but their bony pale blue-gray hands. I don't even know if they have a face; there is nothing but darkness beneath the cloak's hood.
Despite their intimidating appearance, Reaper's presence is a soothing one. Something about them just radiates a feeling of safety, like as long as they're around, everything will be okay. Or, maybe that's just how I feel because I imprinted on them.
Their appearance makes me wish that the other ghost I imprinted on, Eileen Merryweather, was here. But, she isn't fond of parties, classy or otherwise, so she declined her invitation. Instead, she, Reaper, and I got together yesterday to exchange gifts. I gave Mama a mug that had a cartoon bear on it and the words "Mama Bear" in big letters. She laughed when she saw it. I gave Grim a cozy mystery novel about some lady who runs a tea shop. They may not look the part, but they like those kinds of books.
As for my own gifts, I got a GameStop gift card from Mama, who confessed to being a terrible gift-giver, and a scythe from Grim, who said that it would appear in my hands when summoned. I spent over an hour practicing wielding my scythe while babbling about Pokemon: Diamond and Pokemon: Pearl and how I was going to use that gift card for one of them when they came out but couldn't decide which to get.
After I burned off my gift high, Mama insisted on showing me some ghost holiday TV specials. I never cared for Christmas specials - given my home life during the holidays, you can imagine why - but my curiosity was peaked. So, the three of us sat down and watched a few. The specials were okay, but what I loved was the ambiance. There I was, sandwiched between two parents who weren't fighting, watching cheesy holiday cartoons.
Why couldn't that have been my human family? Growing up, Jazz would try to get me in the holiday mood by showing me specials for shows I liked, but all it did was remind me of how abnormal my house was. Seeing other people, even fictional ones, being so kind and caring toward each other only made me angry. Don't get me started on the times Santa Claus made an appearance. Thankfully, Jazz gave up pretty quickly.
After that wonderful visit that actually made me want to celebrate, I came back to Earth and found that my biological parents had decorated the living room. Not with lights and tinsel, but with charts and diagrams. Dad's had explanations for all the impossible-sounding things that Santa Claus does. Mom's had explanations for why those things were impossible. The volume in that room should have been impossible.
That had been my breaking point. Mom and Dad were too busy screaming to see their only son storm up to his room with tears in his eyes. When Jazz saw me, she sighed and held my trembling form because she thought I was just frustrated with our parents. She was only half-right.
I still haven't figured out how to tell her and the guys about my imprinting in a way that doesn't make Mom and Dad sound like terrible parents. (Even if they kind of are.)
At least I'm getting a break from them.
"Ah, Danny Phantom," Reaper greets in their usual calm, quiet tone. "And, Mira Scott and Cujo as well." I finally got Reaper to stop using Cujo's living name, which is Alfie of all things and doesn't suit him at all. I think Cujo likes the name I gave him better anyway. "I trust that you all are enjoying yourselves."
Mira bounces on her toes. "I'm full of candy cane, so I'm having fun!" She punctuates this by sticking her treat back in her mouth.
"Christmas gets pretty hectic at my house," I summarize, "so I needed something low-key like this."
"I am glad to hear it," Reaper says. "Actually, Danny Phantom, I was hoping to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. Mira Scott and Cujo, perhaps you would like to meet him as well?"
Cujo yips a confirmation and wags his tail.
"Sure," Mira says.
I nod. "Lead the way." The crowd parts once more as Reaper leads us to wherever their friend is, and I ask, "So, who's your friend?"
"He is a fellow Ancient," Reaper replies. "A being known as the Master of Life."
"There's a Master of Life?" Mira asks, voicing my thoughts. "In the Ghost Zone?"
Reaper chuckles. "You ask this as a being who once had a beating heart in her chest?"
Mira grimaces. "Point taken."
I move a little closer to her. She's only been dead for a couple of months, and the circumstances of her death were…not pleasant.
For someone who encourages emotional expression, Reaper is quite oblivious of my girlfriend's discomfort. "Your companions are already here," they say, stopping at a door to one of the private rooms, which are small rooms for people who don't want to be bothered. "I thought that they would enjoy meeting my friend as well."
"So, uh," Mira says, anxiously pulling at her sweater, "is your friend like you, Reaper? You know, all…nice and stuff?"
"In my experience," I say, "Ancients are neutral beings at worst. But if this guy's friends with Reaper, he can't be that bad."
Cujo wiggles in my grasp, and I let him leap out of my arms. He runs up to the door and paws at it and pants eagerly.
Reaper makes an amused noise and gently nudges the dog-ghost out of the way. They open the door, and I don't know what I'm looking at.
Tucker is pacing and muttering about how cool this is. Jazz is sitting in the corner of the room with a thousand-yard stare. Sam, meanwhile, is giddy - Sam is giddy - and is talking so fast I can barely understand her. And, she is sitting on the lap of some guy who must be Reaper's friend.
The ghost interrupts Sam with a deep laugh and lightly pushes her off him and rises from his spot in the middle of the couch. "Now, Sam," he says with an equally deep baritone, "I know you love the holidays, but this is a little much."
Sam is vibrating - that's not an exaggeration and I want to know who overshadowed my one of my best friends - and holding out her hands toward the ghost and stammering, "but but but" over and over.
Tucker spots the four of us in the doorway and greets us with stars in his eyes. "Guys." He points to the ghost Sam is freaking out over. "Look. At. This."
I can't look anywhere else. The Ancient has a very human-like appearance, albeit with mint-green skin and eyes that have technicolor blue irises and no pupils. Like all Ancients, at least from what I've seen, he is tall though only by human standards as opposed to Reaper, Clockwork, and especially Pandora's impressive sizes. He has scraggly white hair and a thick beard the same color. There is a red stocking cap on his head and a red and white jacket over his swollen belly. He also wears red pants with a wide black belt and black boots.
Reaper steps forward and rests a hand on their friend's shoulder. "Allow me to introduce you all to Santa, the Master of Life."
My head meets the floor.