There was a legend that contained some pretty strange shit. Shit that was generally disregarded, that is, until Danny Fenton was born and started to grow up. Until people started to notice just how much he looked like a legend of old. People initially disregarded it as an odd coincidence, until he started acting the same. The same protectiveness, the same unusual strength, the same haunted wisdom, the same aloof secretiveness, the same disappearing acts, how he was always where ever danger just so happened to have been resolved.
And then there was his name, because Daniel, or Danny as he preferred to be called, was just oh so similar to Damian. Damian, the man whom, if the myths were to be believed, is the very reason Amity Park was and is safely in the human world. Those words hidden away in an old text, telling the story of how Amity Park once belonged to the ghost realm, how it came into creation there, even though everyone born there was impossibly human. Only to be dragged into the land of the living by some sort of god. One whom looked oh so human yet was always adorned in a cape of cold fire, hiding away nearly all of his clothing in dancing blue flames far more pale in colour than his vibrant blue eyes, and a crown of blazing green, that seemed to give off haunting ghostly screams and bathed its owners midnight black hair in an eerie green light.
One of the more peculiar things written, which eventually became downright suspicious after young Danny’s fourteenth birthday, was the descriptions of how Damian would appear to look in silver-backed mirrors. Suddenly described as being reflected looking white-haired, green-eyed and glowing painfully bright. This glow, this light, is apparently why so many scholars interpreted him as being a god. But the residents of Amity Park held a different opinion, ghost. Sure a ghost god could be possible, heck, in this case, it seemed pretty likely. And everyone in Amity Park knew of a certain glowing someone with snow-white hair and toxic green eyes, and that someone was definitely a ghost. Heck, he was even named Phantom and not to mention having the same name as the Fenton boy. But at first, even with the Phantom name, no one really believed this ghost stuff. It was, after all, known that Danny Phantom was incredibly fond of jokes and puns.
That is, until the terrifying ghost king and glimpsing the ghost zone for the first time, only to find it matched that described in the books of old. This incident had a profound effect on the adults in another way, specifically with the actions that ended their stint in the ghost zone. Though they cheered, inside they had whelmed up with fear, at finally seeing just how powerful of a being Phantom was; no doubt strong enough to be some godly being. But even still, it was Danny Fenton that held their attention. For he was far too alike Damian’s description, this was aided by the fact that Damian was never described as being outlandishly bold, being stereotypically heroic, or spewing out silly jokes. Whereas that was a good ninety percent of how Danny Phantom behaved. But maybe that would change in time? Would his afterlife of fighting sour his lighthearted carefree ways? Would he come to be alike Fenton in more than just name?
So, with the sudden proof and existence of ghosts, of the ghost zone indeed being real; well that just sealed the deal. Yes, it would seem, Danny Fenton was indeed the second son, as many had long rumoured; the second coming, a god reborn. But somehow not, at least not yet, or maybe just not fully.
Most came to assume that somehow and some way, the Ghost that was Danny Phantom and the human that was Danny Fenton, would fuse; would become one being. Would eventually become the reincarnation of the man of legend, and that terrified the adults.
Why would they need a being so powerful? One that was claimed to be a god? Did this mean that Amity Park has to return to the land of the dead, the ghost realm? For this, they feared and hated Phantom, with the ghost hunting Fenton parents hating him the most. Though they actively rejected any notion that their son had anything to do with or in common with Phantom. Many suspected that was out of deeply buried concern of what their son could be or who he could be; or maybe what, or who, he could/would become.
Danny Fenton himself was disliked and outcasted as well, but he was just a human, just a human kid; so he was still accepted and supported, more or less. It simply meant that people being unkind to him or avoidant, was expected and tolerated. But as he became an adult, became oh so physically imposing and carrying around a haunting knowing gleam in his eyes; well, then he became feared by some yet revered by others.
In the time it had taken for the boy to grow up cults had formed, formed around Phantom and around Fenton. Claiming the Fenton boy was a vessel for Phantom to take one day, officially making the rest of the town, especially Danny’s parents, protective of Danny Fenton; in a sense of trying to keep Phantom far far away from him. But whenever someone made these intentions or beliefs known to the kid, to the man, he’d simply laugh and give them a cocky smile. No one really understood how the guy could shrug off the, now believed to be very likely, idea that he was either going to get fused with a ghost or was doomed to give up his body to the ghost; even with as protective and good as Phantom was.
The weirder thing was that his friends treated the idea(s) with the same humour and disregard; even weirder was when his parents started to do that too. Did they know something the rest of the town didn’t? Had they found a way to stop it entirely? Or had some force somehow convinced even the ghost hating Fenton parents that this was a good thing? Whatever the reason, the town’s folk didn’t like it and thus treated them with similar wariness and occasional disdain.
Things only got stranger when the town had slowly started to notice that the Fenton boy’s two friends, somehow, also looked like legends of old. The dark-skinned boy identical to a powerful pharaoh who did impossible things, the Fenton parents would always claim the pharaoh must have had some kind of ghostly artifact. His sceptre vanishing after a mysterious spike in ghost energy only served to solidify this theory. And a town rumour has it that the very same sceptre could occasionally be seen poking out of one Tucker Foley’s bag.
Then there was the girl, decked out in morbid fashion. An image of her likeness was found on old tarot cards, if it weren’t for the dress of grass and solid green eyes she would have looked exactly the same. When the words on the back were deciphered, it claimed the girl was a Fae that restored plant life to barren desserts but also overran places lacking respect for nature. This struck a chord with everyone, Sam Manson was, after all, known for her green thumb and a collection of strange plants. Rumour had it, that some were even extinct or impossible to grow here. The sudden appearance of vines and plants coating Amity Park only made them certain.
So, like Danny, they entered adulthood feared. Yet only truly feared by those much older than them. Those their own age seemed to instead revere them. Those that once treated them cruelly now viewed them with slight fondness, those who’d always respected them from afar now held something close to adoration, and those rare few who had known any of them more personally wore pride for them like a badge. But the older adults suspected that had little to do with the rumours about the three. If anything, they seemed to have these more positive feelings towards the strange trio because they owned their oddness and were all blantantly good-hearted. Even with how they were treated by the town, especially Danny, they all had a bizarre level of affection for the town and an extreme level of protectiveness. Were they still just a little too innocent? Were they literally incapable of holding disdain towards the town? Or did they simply have complete disregard for the opinions and behaviours of normal mortals?
So it’s really not all that surprising when a couple of people can’t help but chuckle, amused, at seeing the book the Fenton man carries. Even if some others look at it and then him, with paranoia and foreboding. In the end, it only made sense he’d take to reading about Damian, the man of old that he was so heavily believed to be tied to. If anything, it was only weird that it took him so long. Maybe he was afraid? Maybe he didn’t want to realise how founded everyone’s worries were? Or maybe he, like many teens, simply held near complete disregard to the frettings of adults? Whatever the reason, it was still amusing to see him with the book.
Danny lounges, impossibly comfortable, upside down on a soft large brown chair. Flipping through pages and smirking at the copies of paintings of this “Damian” fellow. Sighing fondly as a blue whisp escapes his mouth; instantly recognising who this ectosignature belongs to.
Snapping the book closed and laying it on his chest as he tilts his head downwards, or technically upwards due to being upside down, to smile softly at the ghost. One whom returns the warm smile with one of their own, “enjoying the light reading, are we?”.
“Hmmm, yes. Very much so. You could say it’s quite timely”, like always Danny’s words elicit a faint and near inaudible chuckle. The ghost floats closer and leans down to have their face above Danny’s, while Danny makes no attempt to bring himself upright.
“I’m sure you’ll find this much more timely. As you are well aware, you’ve got many responsibilities, young king, and now is the time for another one”, holding up one finger, “but worry not, it’s one you’ll get much amusement out of, I am sure”. Danny looks from the knowing smirk on his dear friend and advisors face to the book resting on his chest, and can’t help but laugh. Because, like always, Danny knows there’s no such thing as “coincidences”; as he takes the time medallion into his hand.
Not too long after the book had been returned to the museum library the freaky boy, somehow, had obtained a book bag printed to look identical to one particular book of old. His friends seemed to copy him even, decorating themselves with things reminiscent of each of their legends of old. Practically flaunting the otherworldly and slightly concerning rumours about them. The girls' spider backpack could be heard making clacking noises, as a laminated copy of a tarot card slapped against zippers or buckles. Her hair was rarely without some strange looking flower adorning it. The dark skinned one often wearing sandals with straps wrapping around his legs or a beret with a green cobra on the front and jackals on the sides.
Then there was the tattoos, which really got the town into quite the tizzy. But, like all crazy town gossip, it started small and unassuming. When there were rumours of the goth getting tattoos, even if they were matching green vines with red thorns running up her arms, no one really thought much of it. Tattoos and goths do, stereotypically, go hand in hand. The matching black ankhs on the geeks' wrists were more curious, but his wrists were so rarely seen that no one was really sure if the rumours where true. It was Danny’s new ink that truly started rumour wildfire, matching blazing green crowns on his wrists. Some people even going so far as to forcibly grab his wrists and demand to know what the hell was going on. Was this an omen? Who did the tattoos, because no one in Amity Park would have? Were these actually tattoos or something more worrying? But he’d only ever give a smirk and chuckle, never giving a real response.
So, like he had been since the day he was born, Danny Fenton continued to be infuriatingly strange and confusing to the town; bathed in legends of old and worry over what his existence could possibly mean or foretell.
Danny Phantom remained an otherworldly, and highly concerningly powerful, ghostly protector; who was confusingly different from other ghosts. And a large, albeit older, portion of the town desperately hoped it would stay that way. That they wouldn’t get answers to their questions and fears. That the Danny’s, both of whom were far too similar to legends of old, would remain as two, not one.