I do not own danny phantom. Butch Hartman does. Or nickelodeon.

I don't really know. I'm just a really big fan of it.

(Is there a reason people put that? Is it mandatory? Cause I feel like writing a 'fanfiction' literally implies through common sense that you're giving something your appreciation, not claiming it. But I see loads of people put it on their stories so I guess will too.)

I love the ghost powered trio trope. I think it has so much potential. Mostly for silliness.

Also, hi, I'm new. Posting my writing on here is terrifying and filling my body with anxiety.

1384 words. Rated K. Enjoy.


Danny stilled; his fork hung in the air as the cold energy wove through his body. Exhaling the ghost sense through his nose, he set his utensils down and reached over to touch Sam's hand. He played out their code, a long press followed by a rapid succession of taps. She turned to him, immediately sour with her brow pulled low; Sam stared at his semi-hopeless, resigned expression for a moment. Sighing, the goth wiped her hands on her napkin. Pursing her lips with a nod, she accepted their fate.

"Okay. Who is it?"

"I don't know. It's strong though."

Tucker looked over at the couple, rolling his eyes.

"What was the point of making a calendar with all the different holidays across the Infinite Realms if they're still going to bother us on ours?"

Sam glared back at the boy, and Danny snorted— gleefully egging the boy on with a roguish nod. He focused back on his ghost sense, trying to figure out who entered his haunt.

He sat up a little straighter when the presence shrouded his core in cold trepidation. Massive. The teenagers knew his expression well.

"Vortex or Nocturne?"

"No. It... I think they're a swarm."

The table conversation cut off, all focus drawn to the half-ghost.

"From the portal?" His mother asked, glancing down the hall towards the lab door.

"No." He lightly shook his head and looked over the living room partition, out the window. His sense filtered out again, stronger, making him shiver.

"They're outside."

Determination whiplashed the group into action and suddenly the entire table was on their feet, meals forgotten as they rushed about. Jack turned on the shield, and the party gathered behind Danny at the front door. He transformed, opening the door so everyone could filter out behind him.

Making sure they all had protection of some kind- and wasn't that still weird, to hand Mr. Manson a Spector Deflector, and Mrs. Foley an ectoplasmic machete - Danny walked down the porch steps and entered the street. He looked it over - unable to discern the threat further – and realized several neighbors peeked out of their windows to watch. Seeing the ghost boy close to the ground wasn't unusual - not anymore; but watching Phantom tense into a fighting position with his energy primed told the onlookers that they needed to be tense too.

It certainly didn't help ease the neighbors' minds that all three families at the Fenton household had weapons out.

A sliver of green energy sparked on the cross street. Danny ran to stand on the same corner, and neighbors edged out of their homes to see who he was going to fight. The aura surrounding the squat, detail-less ghost shot out, forcing Danny to cover his eyes. At the sound of so many humans, the unfamiliar ghost shrieked, then vanished altogether, taking the streetlights with it.

Shards of destroyed lightbulbs poured onto the cement, and Danny rolled his eyes, easily deflecting the debris. He pulled out his phone to text Tucker a reminder to replace them with ecto-impervious lightbulbs. Using his ectoplasmic telekinesis to sweep the pavement, he quickly gathered the broken bulbs into a floating pile and carried it behind him. Walking back to his house when no other ghosts appeared, he shrugged at his family.

"I guess it got scared."

"What a shame, we can go back to our meal in peace."

"Yea. And here I was ready for some action."

"Stop it you three." Jazz chastised. "Clearly they knew they couldn't take on Phantom and the ghost-getters."

They rolled their eyes at the name and Danny shifted back into his human half. Looking back at his neighbors, he gave them a thumbs-up and they collectively sighed in relief, heading back to their homes.

"Now, now, kids, there's no reason to mock the ghost when we don't need to."

"Maurice is right, we should go back inside and enjoy our thanksgiving."

"You can't call it a thanksgiving dinner." Tucker mourned.

"Hey, I'm not about to ignore one of Clockwork's cryptic comments. Again. You didn't have to eat at our house, you know."

"There's still plenty of goose left." Angela offered, turning back to the house.

"Dude, you know I would get in just as much trouble as you, oh great ghost king."

The sarcasm was thick enough to cut, but the adults just rolled their eyes and walked back inside. Sam walked over to the bickering boys and pulled them towards the open door.

"Well, then you can't blame me for not having turkey, mister I pay for our city with the gold I was buried with."

"I've been splitting the costs with you. We've both been paying for the repairs."

"That's— good, actually."

"Sometimes I almost can't believe that this is our life now." Sam muttered, shaking her head.

"What? The ghost stuff?"

"No, the human stuff. Of course, the ghost stuff, stupid."

Danny laughed, but his ghost sense cut off any retort he had. He whipped around, green eyes blazing as he searched the street for the culprit once more. The other two teenagers looked around, hesitant to move from his side.

"GUAHHH!"

Danny shot himself backwards into the air, phasing through Sam as he screamed in terror. Tucker flinched, summoning his scepter; he mindlessly launched a handful of ecto-energy in the sound's direction, knocking a trashcan into a bush. Vines ruptured the cement, rooting Sam where she stood while she covered her ears. The ghostly noise crawled down the kids' skin, uncomfortably scratching against their bones. Continuing the bestial, chortling screech, the specter finally came into view next to them.

It flapped about the sidewalk, turning its head rapidly as it followed the trio's movements. When the bird edged closer, it gobbled. Rolling her eyes, Sam released her hold on the ground and walked closer to the little ghost. She held out her hands and caught it when it flew up, petting the creature.

"Here's your culprit, ghost boy." She held up the turkey, "watch out, he's gonna get you!"

"Oh nice! Meat!"

"No, Tucker, it's a ghost now."

"That's still meat."

"You're not killing the little guy after he's already been killed."

"Danny, back me up. It's meat and ectoplasm, and we can have both."

"Uh… technically, that's a turkey? And he basically said not to eat turkey."

"Man, come on."

Danny shrugged, and Sam gave him a kiss before sticking out her tongue at the reincarnated pharaoh.

"Two against one, Tuck. Three if you count Clockwork."

"Traitors."

Danny's ghost sense activated once more and the turkey squawked, clipping at the dissipating mist with its beak. The nineteen-year-olds watched, amused. Danny and Sam pet the strange colored bird again, but when Tucker reluctantly drew his hand near, the creature bit at him, gobbling incessantly; he yanked his hand away and frowned, his expression shifting to one of disjointed exasperation as he gestured to the bird.

"You can't say I didn't try."

The turkey in Sam's hands screeched, suddenly agitated. The shrieking grew and grew, into a cacophony of bone-chilling wails that forced Sam to drop it in surprise. They covered their ears and closed their eyes, squinting in pain as the screams shook them around, threatening to burst their eardrums. Glancing to the street after it quelled, their eyes widened at the mass of glowing poultry that dropped into visibility.

"I uh. I'll play with my food. Just this once."

"It's my nightmare— I'm living my nightmare."

"Turkey armageddon is your nightmare, really? Gobble-geddon?"

"I hate you so much right now. How about you fight off a cooked turkey when your six and then tell me this isn't terrifying."

"Kids, what are you still doing out here? Your food is getting cold."

Their parents filtered back out; conversations silenced once more as they each came across the scene.

"Plucked poultry! That's a lot of birds!"

"How did they not hear these things." Tucker exclaimed, dumbfounded. Sam rolled her eyes and started counting the turkeys. The ghost boy just shook his head.

"You know, Danny," Jazz said from the porch, stepping over the forgotten pile of broken lights. She put a hand on his shoulder, pitying him through a barely contained grin.

"It's like Clockwork told you: everything happens for a reason."


Y'all should know I wrote this in August 2023, and then it sat in my files, haunting me for a year. It was one of those fleeting thoughts I had no value in, but then it just would not get out of my head when I was trying to do literally anything else; so I had to drop everything and sit through it on a lunch break at work.

Can someone explain the whole beta reading thing to me? Not, let me back track, not what it is- but more the how it works through this site. And why. My brain is making it seem more daunting than it probably is. Detailed explanation would be greatly appreciated.

I almost held this for another year because I missed my chance to publish it on Thanksgiving. But I pulled it out and edited it so it can be my first published story on here. Leftover thanksgiving dinner is still thanksgiving dinner.

I need the (gentle) criticism practice. Please and thank you.

- Goose