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the forbidden days of mcphantom

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One morning, as Lightning worked away at his butter, Danny asked, “Hey, maybe we should let your manager know? You know, about us.” He smiled, but on the inside his heart raced. Although slightly ashamed that he is testing their love on such a seemingly harmless sentence, Daniell truly wanted Lightning to respond supportively. What happened next, though, was beyond his wildest fears.

Lightning dropped his eating apparatus. It fluttered down to the ground with a dull plonk. His eyes narrowed and his gaze moved from Danny’s warm blue peepers to the tiled floor. Such an appealing floor. The interior design was truly impeccable. A long, pregnant moment passed before he abruptly rose up out of his seat, voice low, he started, “I- could you give me another pregnant moment? I have to-”

“You have to what, Lightning? You have to think about it?” Danny spoke sharply, sharper than he usually would. This was already turning sour, precisely like Mathilda’s milk would on a steaming summer’s day. He could practically taste it in his mouth. Yum!

Heat flashed in Lightning’s own seeing circles. “Can you chill? I didn't even say that.” He paused, voice faltering before continuing, “What even are we anyways? Do you think we’re some kind of….thing, now? Don't be so naïve.” He scoffed, voice trembling as he dealt the final blow. Danny, previously silent, forcibly pushed his chair backwards, generating a large squeaking noise, rising to match the other’s height.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Danny ejaculated angrily, anger birthing from the casserole-like womb of hurt and shock. “You take that back. Right now.”

“Why? It’s the truth.” The red car sneered, regaining his upper position in the bone of contention.

Danny felt that last statement ripple through his heart. Stinging tears began to spring into his eyes, threatening to tumble over the edge as his breath quickened, stuttering in his chest. “Y-you… you don’t really mean that, Lightning.” But the look in his eyes said it all. His steely gaze pierced Danny’s blood pumping web slinging mighty morphing thunkathunker. Danny’s jaw trembled, tears finally burning tracks into his cheeks as Lightning looked through him, he himself breathing heavily.

“I think I’ve said enough.” He hastily shifted his gaze away from the boy. Danny’s words shook as he quietly uttered, “Can’t you even look at me?” Daniel let out a choked sob, taking one last look at the vehicle whom he once admired. He felt a resonance with the tale of Icarus, having flown too close to his sun and now was paying the price, wings of wax melting and letting him tumble to his demise.

The last shred of hope that Danny clung onto sashayed away when Lightning did not respond. He couldn't take it anymore. Daniel stood up and crashed his fists on the dining table, but realising he was already standing, he sat in his chair a second time, and rising again, slammed his hands on the cold tabletop. This was the most he could do out of his confused spite. In his angered daze, he galloped out of the Denny’s and into the deluge outdoors.

Lightning could only remain in neutral while watching the boy leave, and as he did so the first embers of regret begun to claw up from the chasm in his heart. Only now did his words catch up to him, and he realized his mistakes. He let out a mighty roar similar to Shrek but not really because he is Dreamworks and Lightning is Pixar. He immediately revved his engine and sped out as well, calling for Daniel as he did, but to no avail.

The black-haired boy (that sometimes had white hair when he bust a phadd nut what a fuckin weirdo) was nowhere to be found. Lightning felt as if he may cry; what had he done? There are many things in this world that he may not understand, but trust me on this, child, the young four-wheeler knew well and good what he had done. After aimlessly driving around for at least like 11 seconds, he decided perhaps it would be best if he returned to the diner after the next rising of the sun, to find his lost love.

When the morrow arrived, and Lightning arose from his sleepless slumber he returned to the Deniel’s. He zoomed quite quickly to the counter where some girl was waiting, and he asked in a panicked tone, “Is Danny here?”

The girl blinked very slowly, almost a full minute long, before responding, “ No he quit.”

“Oh.” Lightning said. “K.”


He went outside and cried.

It was still raining.

He was still crying.

He lay down in a puddle. That's a pretty big puddle.


Suddenly, his ringtone, Britney Spears’ hit ‘ Toxic ’ sounded from his car pocket. He let it ring multiple times before picking up his phone. “Hi hello bonjour shalom how goes it how are you hey?” He spoke, attempting to hide his large hint of sadness.

“Zipp-o, my dude, did you forget? It’s time to blast.” That Manager From Chapter One’s voice rang out from the receiver. Alack, he had forgotten he was due to depart at this time!

“Alrighty tighty my sweet dude.” The hotrod sighed with resignation. He did not know when, or if, he would be able to see Danny again. At this time, Lightning would describe his state to be similar to that of a placenta; trembling, rejected, and alone.

Attempting to keep his mind off the scuffle the two ex-lovers had just engaged in, he posed a query to himself, “Gosh, I wonder how many calories are in a placenta?”

As if that thought could keep Danny off his mind. That boy was nothing like a placenta; for one, he was a boy, and not a placenta. McQueen left the town, thoughts heavy.k

Days passed by. Weeks. Danny constantly ruminated upon his lost love. Laying in bed all day he refused to leave his room in a depressive state, like a comatose patient except way more privileged. He frequently used music like industrial experimental tracks and The Avocado Song as his mental outlet. No wonder he felt comatose. A new favourite of his was the Norwegian translation of The Avocado Song; it was an extraordinarily exotic, poetic song that reminded him of Lightning.


“Lag tomaten, lag, lag tomaten.
Skrell tomaten, skrell, skrell tomaten.
"Fhrpp" ketchupen, "fhrpp", "fhrpp" ketchupen!
Lag gulroten, lag, lag gulroten.
Skrell gulroten, skrell, skrell gulroten.
"Th" kaninen, "th", "th" kaninen!
Lag avokadoen, lag, lag avokadoen.
Skrell, avokadoen, skrell avokadoen.
Guacamole, guac, guacamole!”


It was évanescent. He so wished to compare it to Lightning, but his heart still ached. How long had it been since he saw him last? Heard his voice? Felt the oh-so-familiar sleek texture of his leather and chrome? He wouldn’t let himself feel any unholy desires, though. Lightning had just used him to get his nut and he was foolish enough to let him. Danny sadly yeeted a tissue across the room, it commenced its pathetic fall. It inspired him to write depressing poems into his personal journal.

He pumped out 3 WHOLE poems, until the tissue finally finished fluttering down and landed perfectly on his television remote, pressing the ‘on’ button. It went straight to the car racing channel.  The vroom vroom sounds burst forth, erupting from the magic moving picture box. Danny still doesn’t know how that box works. He’s bamboozled by it every day!

Anyways he did a big gasp, mostly because the sudden loud noise shocked him but also because right there, on-screen, the moving picture himself, was Mr. McQueen. The bona fide authentic genuine real McCoy except not McCoy he was McQueen. No joke. It was then that he remembered that the Piston Cup wasn’t over yet, even though it had been like five weeks. Once more, tears leapt into his eyes and he reached for yet another tissue to later yeet across the room. His heart was thundering.

He ate some milk (99%) to calm his nerves, shakily lifting the heavy glass to his puckered lips. He actually drank so much milk that he turned into a bone.

Or rather, that’s what he wished had happened. A boy can dream. Or should I say, a BONE can dream haha ;~)

“God damit.” He’s avoided his problems for long enough. It was time to confront the car. How many times had he run away before? The old Daniel Fenton, the scared, feeble little boy was dead. He was Danny Phantom now. A terrible quandary plagued him, though. How was he supposed to get to the race, if he was here in Amity Park’s? Shuffling along his carpet, he thought about it for a very long time in his thinking chair. With a sharp inhalation, he exclaimed, “I’ll go ghost!”

He slammed down a shot of milk (5%), chewing quickly, before vivaciously going ghost, and immediately took off. He glid down the street, glid out of the town, and glid all the way to the Piston Cup race. He was getting a little tired of glid-ing “God damit” he whispered.

Phasing through the multiple doors in the racetrack arena, he ghosted through the roaring crowd, tingling as he travelled through the sweaty, excited bodies. Was it just him, or was the crowd so much larger than when he had personally attended? It was only then that he remembered the TV broadcast had actually been live, which made him also wonder why on earth he went when he didn’t even know that because if it actually wasn’t he would’ve ended up at an empty arena what a dumb idiot. “What the fucc?” He hadn’t thought this through, but there was was no going back now because if he had to go back he’d have to glid back and he didn’t really want to so

I guess he’s meeting up with his ex.

With this new found epiphany, he gulped, and nervously looked towards the racers, speeding down the track, trying to locate that flash of red he knew all too well. When he finally did, the world seemed to slow, just like it had the first time. This time though, the older male’s gaze was steely and solemn, unlike before when he’d been playful and excited and had his head in the game. Upon seeing him, Danny ectoplasmically vomited beastily. He shouldn’t have had that 99% milk. He made a mental note to never ever ever ever ever ever never do that again. He was a fool.

Halfway through excogitating about his milk, he heard the crowd take a unanimous and very deep gasp. He snapped his gaze back to the race, and he, too, gasped audibly. He gasped so hard that his lung just popped out. It’s okay though he put it back. Refocusing on the race, he spots Lightning who had attempted to drift, but lost control and was swerving off-course. Danny practically rammed his entire fist down his throat with how nervous he was. This was going to compromise not only his leading position in the Cup, but also his reputation as a prodigal rookie racer.

The racer managed to regain his footing but it was too late. His model was simply not made to go fast enough to mend his errors, and he paid the price. Seconds later, Mister The King Old Daddy Rabbit whirled across the finish line, his blue afterimage lingering behind. Danny groaned. what the HECK McQueen

The crowd split into two, many booing, many applauding. Down in the track, Lightning’s expression as he himself crossed the checkered y=mx+b of completion remained stoic but in his eyes there was pain and torment and misery and mental strain. Danny could really see the pain, torment and misery so well, his eyes are so good! 21/20 vision! Being a ghost sure does help.

The crowd quickly gobbled up both Lightning and Danny on their respective sides of the arena, just like how a turkey would (because that is the sound they make). The sound of the MC speaking was like he was underwater to Danny, but somehow managed to register in his mind. “Ol’ DAddy Rabbit’s the winner again! He’ll have an absolute blast at the afterparty- ladies, contain yourselves. Also men, or whatever.”

Of course! The afterparty!


Oh no! The afterparty! Danny shouldn’t have left the house. He had, once again, taken advantage of his ghostly goobers and phased into the party so he wouldn’t get carded, but he was now filled with regret. The only parties he knew were the bingo parties hosted by Grammy Fenton.

So there he was, halfway phased into the wall; he was taking the term wallflower quite seriously. This party had so many strobing, multicoloured lights, and the bass from the music vibrated through his ectoplasm. Bodies were pressed against bodies, sweat evaporating porously into the air. Our young ghost looked left and right, trying to find solace that wasn’t just a wall, when he noticed the bar. A deep sense of relief shot through him, and he ghosted over there quickly, seating himself in a stool.

“Hey ghost kiddo, what can I do ya for?” The nice man standing behind the counter said.

“W-What do you recommend?” Danny asked inquisitively.

After pondering for a moment, the man said, “If you’re really lookin’ to have a wild time, I’d say some jagermeister or the tequilameister, or the burgermeister meisterburger.”

“Ok cool I don’t know what any of that fukin is so I’ll take a guava juice, on the rocks.” He requested cooly, smoothing his snow-white hair back. Unfortunately, he has a terrible mannerism where when he smooths his hair his entire body must follow in a similar rolling motion, so he waves like a wobble board. Just at this moment, he noticed the very car he was there for sulking in the corner, and in a panic, he snatched the nearest glass (which happened to be a mug) and yelled his thanks before dashing, takin’ a hearty swig as he did.

He thought, “wow, that is some very terrible guava juice,” but he was thirsty so he downed the mug, smacking his still very very chapped lips. They crumbled a little more with every smack. Swerving through the crowd, he tried his best to “accidentally run into Lightning” while at the same time “making sure he never runs into Lightning ever”. Pirouetting madly, he tried his best to accomplish both tasks at once, unfortunately he was causing a ruckus, only succeeding in bringing more attention to himself.

From the other side of the room, a specific red vehicle’s interest was piqued. Solemnly zooming over, he caught a glimpse of snow-white hair and glowing green eyes. COULD IT BEE?<

That guava juice was taking some unexpected effects on Daniel. In his eyes, instead of Lightning driving over, he was shredding it. He had thought Lightning was impressive on the racetrack, but wasn’t ready to see him on the dancefloor. Danny purred, “You’re such a ~multitalented individualal@~” He began to ferociously gyrate just in the crowd, hips phasing through one person after another. His session was interrupted by, who could it be?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆WHO’S THAT POKEMON????☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was lightning.

Lightning was that pokemon! He slammed a tire on the wall behind Danny, pinning him against it, heaving. “Dannicus.” He said under his breath. “What are you doing here? Also why do you have an empty mug?” He sniffed his mouth. “You’re, oh god don’t me say it, drunk! You’re a sinner, Danny!”

“That juice was sooo spicy! You better take the wheel, speedy boy!”

Lightning gazed at him sternly. That was no juice. “Danil, you’re inebriated. I can’t take advantage of you like this, especially not here, after what we’ve just been through.” He held Danny’s shoulders more firmly.

“I want you to tear up my ass like you tear up that racetrack!!” He roared, getting really into Lightning’s bubble of personal space.

Lightning decided to not hold him more firmly and promptly pushed him backwards, shaking his car head lightly. “I think you should go outside and get some air, Jesus Mary and Broseph.” Of course, Danny complied, giggling a “Whatever you say, daddicus!”

Extending a tire towards the incapacitated specter boy, he grabbed him by a single strand of hair, yanking him out of the building. He made sure to not make any form of eye contact with anycar.

Once out of the building, it was apparent that it was raining again, just like it had back home.  

“It’s so moist!!” Danny teehee’d energetically, jigging up to the vehicle, getting rather comfortable. Lightning blushed a deep shade of red even though he was already red, fighting his passion and temptations to hold his ground now that they were alone. Old desires dusted themselves off and sprung to the surface, slowly.

“What am I even doing…” Lightning replayed their argument through his mind, like a Youtube video where you clicked “Loop”. “Why are you here, Dankey? Why’d you come?” He whispered, distraught but also a little aroused.

Even through his drunken state of mind, Danny could still feel his inner pain resonate. “Why? ...Love.” He said warmly, a light smile creeping across his lips. But then, he got sad again. “What about you, Lightning? I thought we had something special. Why would you lie to me like that?” Danny was on the verge of tears, something that happens often.

Lightning grasped Danny tighter, “Baby, it’s not what you think.” He bit his lip, glancing away briefly before returning to Danny, “I’m so new to this relationship thing, especially with a peenie-haver. I’ve been in this industry since I was a kid and never got to experience it, so when you suggested we come out I- I got scared and lashed out. Then I was too much of a coward to apologize...and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t say this earlier.” He gasped for breath; even he thought he may burst into tears, despite his tough exterior. Danny brought a hand up to his mouth, tears actually spilling over and mingling with his facial raindrops, overcome with emotions.

“Oh, Lightning.” He wailed. There was a beat of silence, and exactly when Lightning blinked he swooped on in, mashing their lips together so sweetly like before. Overcome by shock at first, Lightning froze, but he succumbed to his masculine charm without any delay or hesitation. Danny sucked on his lips as one would suck on a kumquat, juicing the goose. He thought he might vomit again, not from queasiness, but excitement rather. He was okay. He managed to swallow it down. It felt like years, but eventually they had to draw apart for breath, only to dive in once more afterwards.

“I forgive you, Speedy Boii.” Danny breathed, clutching Lightning’s autobody.

“I never fell out of love with you, Danky…” The car started, grinning widely. “So, if you’ll accept it...would you be the Lightning McKing to my Lightning McQueen?”

“Oh my tubba wubba ookums snookums oochie coochie pickle pie juicy pooper milky dilf, I was already yours ;)"