Summary: When a recently deceased Danny Phantom fan is snubbed by her favorite cartoon character, she seeks the aid of Ghost Writer and his Keyboard to carry out her revenge using the only weapon she has: Fanfiction!

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom or any of its characters, settings, or episodes, but Fic Writer is wholly a product of my overactive imagination.

This is meant to be a friendly parody of fanfic in general. I mean no harm, I promise. But, because it is a parody, there will be elements of fanfics from far and wide included in later chapters, including an OC (who is hopefully not a Mary-Sue), a purposeful Mary-Sue, some serious OOC behavior, slash, bad rhyming, and anything else my twisted mind happens to think up.

I've been sitting on this story for a while, but I didn't want to upload another story until I'd gotten Teen Mother a bit farther along. Unfortunately, this has been refusing to let me write anything for Teen Mother, so before I have to painfully force another chapter of that out, I decided I'd get this out so I can actually enjoy writing my other story again. The rating is only a precaution for later chapters.

Hope you enjoy!

note: I've edited this a bit since I first posted it, since there are parts of it that have been brought to my attention that I don't particularly like. I'm not sure I love the way it is, now, but it's an improvement. I might change it more a bit later.

Her mother teased her about her affection for the show; it was naturally a loving sort of teasing, but there was a sense of honest bewilderment behind it all the same.

"You're seventeen," she would say, shaking her head. "What could you possibly find so interesting about a kid's cartoon?"

The girl would just shrug. "What can I say? It makes my inner child happy," she'd reply, grinning.

And her mother would laugh. "If you say so. It's actually sort of sweet, the way you get all excited whenever it's on TV."

At this, the girl would make a noncommittal sort of noise. She didn't like to lie to her mother, but she certainly wasn't planning to divulge just how much of a time-sink Danny Phantom had become for her. The show had crept into her life like something feline stalking through tall grass and, before she could register what was happening, the girl found herself mired solidly in the DP fandom: fanart, fic, RPs, chat rooms, slash. She had then decided almost immediately that the less her mother knew about these activities, the better. In fact, the girl didn't really share the extent of her obsession with anyone, save for the other members of the fandom she'd met on the internet. And, really, that was enough for her.

…

It was the last day of summer vacation before her senior year of high school; the air outside was muggy and humid, so she had retreated indoors to the comfort of her air-conditioned bedroom. The summer reading she'd been assigned lay, untouched, in the far corner. She'd made multiple attempts to actually complete the assignment, but, every time she'd picked one of the books up, she'd been overcome by the thought that she was reading it in preparation for her last year of high school. The thought was frightening enough to make her drop the book like it had bitten her.

And so she had taken Jane Eyre and 1984 and A Room of One's Own and piled them up and shoved them under her bed, as though she could prolong her summer by never touching them. But time, as it is wont to do, slipped by, anyway, and soon enough she found herself with only one more day of freedom and several unread books. One more day of relative childhood before she had to grow up and start applying to colleges and decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life—a life that seemed to be sprinting away from her at a horrifying pace. Just thinking about it made her want to scream.

So she decided not to think about it. In a rather benign act of rebellion, she continued to ignore her summer work and, instead, locked herself in her room and sought the familiar comfort of Nicktoons. The universe seemed to approve of her academic avoidance; the commercial break wound down, and the girl let out an excited squeal as the proper programming came back.

"Someone up there must like me," she grinned, settling in to enjoy the incredibly providential and unexpected back-to-school marathon of Danny Phantom. She caught only the last few minutes of Reign Storm, but her disappointment lasted only as long as it took her notice that the next slot was being filled by Bitter Reunions. It went without saying that she was thrilled, but the feeling was tempered by a strange sense of loss.

"You have got it made, Danny," she said a little sadly. "You've got that exciting life, an awesome family, great friends, and you always get to be the hero. Plus, you never have to worry about getting older. God, I'm jealous."

On the screen, Danny aimed a green ecto-blast at one of Vlad's ghostly vulture minions, oblivious to her babbling. She sighed, a heavy, frustrated sigh that ached down into her chest. When the episode cut to its first commercial, she stood and stretched, and went downstairs to hunt down something edible, and preferably sweet. Her mother was in the kitchen doing dishes.

"She's alive! What have you been doing all day, locked up all alone in your room?"

"Summer reading," the girl lied, peering into the fridge.

"Oh, okay." Her mother sounded vaguely relieved.

The girl grabbed a can of Pepsi out of the fridge and moved towards the stairs, but her mother called her back before she could get upstairs.

"Pumpkin, before you go back upstairs, do you think you could do me a quick favor? Mrs. Marmel borrowed my measuring spoons, and I need them back if I'm ever going to get started on that cake I promised your brother to celebrate his first day of kindergarten."

"Then why can't he go get them?" Her mother sent her a dark look. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

"Thank you, dear."

Mrs. Marmel was the woman who lived across the street from the girl—she was an alright sort, really. Better than anyone else on the street, the population of which consisted of the girl and her family, Mrs. Marmel, and a collection of strange, grumpy, elderly retirees. And, though she didn't mind Mrs. Marmel, she really would've preferred to be back up in her room, watching Danny's shocked expression as Vlad transformed into Plasmius before his disbelieving eyes.

"I'm gonna miss the whole episode," she grumbled, cracking open her Pepsi and starting down the driveway. And Mrs. Marmel would probably try to get her to come inside for a while—the woman made a mean peanut butter cookie, fair, but the girl could already see herself getting stuck on that horrible floral-print sofa while Mrs. Marmel asked her about school and the precious minutes of the Danny Phantom marathon leaked steadily away from her. She tossed back a mouthful of soda as she stepped off the curb. She never noticed the car.

…

Like most teenagers, she'd gone through a "Goth" phase somewhere in her early teens and so had given more than her fair share of thought to the matter of death. She hadn't exactly developed any concrete expectations during these musings, but if she had, she never would have expected this.

"Am I…in the Ghost Zone?" The last thing she could remember was the taste of soda and the screeching of breaks; there had been a brief moment of something that might've been pain, that sucked the air from her lungs and burst into flares of color behind her eyes. There had been no long tunnel, no bright light, no smiling beings in spotless white robes singing celestial harmonies, none of the things she had heard about on those TV programs about near-death experiences.

This…this was so much better. She looked around her, at the endless miles of hazy, goopy, green broken here and there by the occasional daub of purple delineating distant portals.

"Am I dreaming?" she wondered out loud. It wasn't likely, sure—a coma? She'd read about people who fall into comas and have long, vivid dreams that seem so real that they go into shock when they finally wake up.

"Hey, you."

The girl spun around to face a tall, imposing figure with shiny black boots, an impeccable, crisp white suit, and a leering skull's face topped by a black cowboy hat. She swallowed a swear.

"Walker."

Walker frowned. "That's right," he near-growled in his chilling drawl. He drew closer, squinting. "I haven't seen you around here, before. You're not from…out-of-town, are you?"

The girl was speechless. "Uh," she stammered. "No-not exactly."

"Then you know the rules," said Walker, cracking his black-gloved knuckles.

"Well." The girl laughed nervously. "You know, it never hurts to have your memory refreshed when it comes to these sorts of things, does it?"

Walker let out a snarl. "Are you talking back to me, punk? Because that's against the rules."

The girl backed away. "No!" she assured Walker hurriedly. "I'm not talking back! I swear! I would never. I, I respect you way too much, obviously." She held her arms in front of her face and squinted her eyes shut in expectation of a blow. But none came. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Walker seemed to be pondering something, arms crossed, chin propped thoughtfully on one hand.

"Hmmmmm," he said. "Respect the Warden. That would make a great new rule." He pulled a huge book from his pocket and flipped through the pages, running his finger along the text. Then he snapped it shut, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"You can go for now," he said, threat lingering in his tone. "But if I see you around here again, you won't get off so easy."

"Yes sir, Mr. Walker, sir!" The girl gave a salute and shot away as quickly as she could, plowing deeper into the unfamiliar territory of the Ghost Zone.

…

The bell rang for third period, and Danny lifted his head from his desk to find Mr. Lancer glaring at him from the front of the room.

"Aw man, I fell asleep again, didn't I?" he groaned.

"Yup," replied Tucker, gathering his books and shoving them into his backpack. "But don't worry; I already e-mailed you all the notes you missed from my PDA."

"Uh, Tuck?" said Sam. "Somehow, I feel like the notes are the least of Danny's worries."

Tucker glanced at the glowering Mr. Lancer and winced. "Yeah, you've probably got a point there. Well, see you later, Danny!"

"Hope you don't get detention!" cried Sam, and the two of them darted quickly out of the room.

Danny groaned. "With friends like you guys, who needs Plasmius?" Slowly, he gathered his books and walked to where Mr. Lancer was waiting for him by the door.

"I'm sorry to see that you find Romeo and Juliet so boring, Mr. Fenton," the teacher said, raising one eyebrow.

"Sorry, Mr. Lancer," apologized Danny. "I just haven't been sleeping so well the past few nights."

"I see." Mr. Lancer crossed his arms over his ample stomach. "Well, I won't give you detention…this time. But I expect a report on my desk tomorrow morning on the first act of Romeo and Juliet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Lancer." With the burden of extra schoolwork hanging over his head, Danny slouched out of the classroom.

Third period classes had already started—the hallway was empty. Danny hitched up his backpack and started towards his next class, heaving a heavy sigh that turned into blue mist in the air in front of him.

"Oh, great. This is just what I need right now." Glancing around, Danny prepared to go ghost, but he was interrupted by a very loud, very happy exclamation.

"Danny! Holy cow, it's really you!"

Danny felt someone barrel into him from behind, tackling him to the floor in an over-enthusiastic hug. This gave way soon enough to a stream of conversation.

"You can't imagine how hard it was to find you; I must've spent hours wandering around the Ghost Zone looking for the Ghost Portal that would lead to your house. And then getting here was a huge pain, since they never really tell you how to in the show, and—"

Danny sat up, angrily interrupting the ghost who had grabbed him.

"Who the heck are you?" he demanded. "And what in the world are you talking about?"

The ghost—a dark-haired girl who looked to be around Jazz's age—blinked at him. Then, slowly, she grinned.

"Me? I'm your biggest fan."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Riiiiiiight," he said. "Look, I think you've got me confused with someone else." He stood and dusted himself off. The ghost, her smile disappearing from her face, followed suit.

"Trust me, Danny, I'm not confused," she assured him. She paused. "There's so much I need to tell you, and none of it is going to make sense. Could we talk?"

This was going to be Klemper all over again, he could already tell. Danny sighed. "I don't really have time for this," he told the ghost girl.

She looked hurt. "Oh," she said quietly. She sounded like she might cry. "Maybe later, then?"

"I don't think so," said Danny. He felt a little bad to be hurting the ghost, but he really didn't have time for her. He had to get to class before he was assigned any more extra work. And he really didn't need any more undead friends.

"But," she protested. "But, Danny, I-"

"Look," said Danny, as kindly as her could. "I don't know how you know my name, but I'm not interested in being friends, okay? You should go back to the Ghost Zone where you belong, or I'm going to have to force you to."

The ghost's face brightened. "Would you put me in the Fenton Thermos?" she asked cheerfully.

"How do you even—? Never mind." Danny waved vaguely. "I have to go." With that, he shouldered his backpack and turned to leave.

The ghost grabbed his arm. "Wait, Danny, please don't go."

"For Pete's sake…" Danny whirled around and pushed the ghost away. "Leave me alone!" Jeez, this ghost was persistent. Danny was starting to believe that she had an ulterior motive behind her friendly proposition. He narrowed his eyes at her. "How did you say you found me?"

"I found your ghost portal!" said the ghost happily. "It was so tough to find. But, I mean, you've been in the Ghost Zone—you know how easy it is to get turned around in there. I must've passed Vlad's portal like six times. How was it you described him? Subtle as a hammer?" She laughed.

"You know Vlad?" Danny was dumbstruck. Either this ghost girl was incredibly dense, or she had to believe that he was. She was obviously connected to Vlad, somehow, but Danny couldn't figure out why she had admitted the connection so freely. Was it possible that she really didn't know what her words implied? What was that saying…the friend of my enemy is my enemy? Danny couldn't be sure if that was it, but it sounded appropriate for the situation.

The ghost's face split into a grin. "Are you kidding? He's my favorite character—aside from you of course."

Being trapped in the Fenton Thermos turned out to not quite be the thrilling experience she had hoped it would be.

…

She hurt everywhere. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, her eyes stinging with tears, her breath—she was dead, why did she even need to breath?—hitching in her spectral lungs. She felt betrayed. Danny had been her comfort for years; he had been the person she had turned to whenever she was upset or worried or when she felt alone. Sure, she hadn't expected him to welcome her into his life with open arms, but he could've at least talked to her. He could've given her five minutes to explain herself. But what had he done instead? He had dismissed her outright, yelled at her, shoved her away from him. 'Leave me alone', he'd said. The words still reverberated through her head like a hammer against her skull.

Leave me alone.

The girl felt something dim and dark and foreign begin to uncurl far back in her chest, uncoiling like an open hand, inviting. Leave him alone? it said, chuckling. Now what would be the fun of that?

…

Ghost Writer flipped the page in the ancient, yellowing novel he held in his hands. He had spent the majority of the day writing, and had recently settled down to indulge in this, his second favorite pastime. The vast possibilities of the written word never ceased to amaze him. He turned the page again, letting the words leap from the page and come to life in the stillness of his library home.

—BAM! BAM! BAM!—

Ghost Writer looked up, puzzled, though certainly understandably, as he wasn't expecting visitors. He set down his novel reluctantly and floated over to the door, opening it a crack and peering out into the eerie gloom of the Ghost Zone.

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing you." The ghost at the door smiled pleasantly at him, her arms clasped innocently behind her back.

Ghost Writer's natural politeness caused him to assure her that she wasn't. "How can I help you?" he asked, when what he really wanted to say was "Do I know you?"

The girl's smile widened. "I'm just a fellow lover of literature," she said sweetly. "I thought you might lend me hand with something."

Ghost Writer opened the door a bit wider and ushered the girl inside. "Please, come in," he said. "It's always a pleasure to meet a kindred spirit, if you'll excuse the pun. What can I lend you a hand with?"

"You know Danny Phantom, don't you?" The girl didn't look at him, but instead allowed her gaze to trace the walls and high, vaulted ceiling of the room she found herself in.

Ghost Writer had not expected that name. "I do," he admitted. "I have had some…contact with the boy in the past. Why?"

The girl ignored his question. "Is that your Keyboard?" Her voice was hushed with awe as she approached the object and slipped into the middle of it, admiring the keys with obvious ardor. Ghost Writer cursed inwardly for leaving the thing out.

"It is a beauty, isn't it?" He wondered how he could get the girl away from it without injuring her.

"Oh, yes," the girl agreed.

"You never said why you asked me about Danny Phantom," Ghost Writer reminded her, desperate to draw her attention away from his prized possession.

"I need to teach him a lesson." The girl made eye contact with him, now, and her expression was fierce, the ends of her plaited hair curling at the edges in ghostly rage. She was every inch a woman wronged.

"What sort of lesson? What did he do to you?"

The girl made a hard, thoughtful noise that might have been a laugh. "Let's just call it a refresher course on common decency," she said. "He...rejected me," she added quickly.

"Rejected you?" Ghost Writer raised an eyebrow.

The girl nodded, turning back to the Keyboard and holding her hands centimeters above the keys. "I asked him for friendship, for common decency, andall I got for my my trouble was, was violence and rudeness. And then he put me in that stupid thermos—I had sort of asked him to, true, but that was earlier, I didn't know how awful it would be. I think I understand why everyone around here seems to hate the thing so much." She stretched, twisting in an attempt to crack her stiff spectral back.

"Well, he is entitled to decided with whom he wishes to be friends," Ghost Writer pointed out carefully.

The girl's head snapped up; there was fire in her eyes. "Not you, too," she said, her voice low.

Much to his surprise, Ghost Writer found that he was frightened of the girl. "I…I'm sorry," he murmured. "But I can't help you teach a lesson to Danny just because he wouldn't be your friend. It isn't warranted. It wouldn't be right."

The girl frowned. "Ghost Writer," she said softly. "I would really rather not have to hurt you, too."

"I beg your pardon?" said Ghost Writer, visibly offended. "Who do you think you are?"

The girl grinned. She reached out, and her fingers danced over the keys of Ghost Writer's most potent weapon:

"I'm your deepest, darkest nightmare,

should you try to be my foe.

You can call me the Fic Writer—

as of now, I run this show."

…

With the final bell came freedom

for most kids as Casper High.

Sam and Tucker were included;

Danny felt like he could cry.

Now, between old Lancer's essay,

other homework—quite a heap—

ghost fighting, and household chores, well,

when would he find time to sleep?

Things got worse not far from Casper.

Danny groaned. He knew it would,

what with the day he'd been having.

There Ember and Skulker stood.

Danny tossed away his backpack.

Oh, these two would so be toast.

Thank the Lord for misplaced anger.

Danny cried, "I'm going ghost!"

Skulker gestured in surrender-

"Whelp, we aren't here to fight.

We can only do and tell you

what the author cares to write."

Danny groaned at Skulker's wording.

"Not the Ghost Writer! Again?!

What did I do to him this time?"

Ember sighed and muttered, "Men.

It's not Ghost Writer, you dipstick,

you've pissed off someone far worse.

And she's bent on wreaking havoc

in your little universe.

He sought to teach you a lesson-

she's just out to make you pay.

So you'd better watch your back, kid."

And, with that, she flew away.

Danny turned to question Skulker,

and the hunter's face was grim.

"If I was you, I'd be worried.

Very worried," he told him.

"She has all Ghost Writer's powers,

but she lacks his moral aim.

Now we're reduced to messengers,

and you're the one to blame."

With a scowl, he turned to go, then

with a chuckle, Skulker said,

"Now, if I were you, Ghost Child,

I'd just come with me instead.

Yes, it's given that I'll skin you,

or just keep you in a cage,

but that's nothing to what she'll do

now that you've provoked her rage."

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks," said Danny.

"I'll keep what you said in mind,

but I think I'll take my chances."

Skulker sputtered, "Are you blind?!

Don't you see what's going on, here?

Don't you know what she can do?

Here's a warning sign—you're rhyming!

Or is that not strange for you?"

Danny scowled. "Okay, I get it.

But I'm still not willing prey.

So, if you're done with your message,

I suggest you go away."

"Were I under my own power,"

Skulker ground through gritted teeth.

"I would tie you in a bow and

hang you like a Christmas wreath."

"Guess I'm lucky that you're not, then,"

Danny said without much fear.

"That's what you think," muttered Skulker.

"But you'll learn. I'm outta here."

With a wave, the hunter vanished,

though his warning lingered still.

And, stripped of his false bravado,

Danny felt a sudden chill.

...

Fic Writer leaned away from the keyboard with a satisfied sigh. She cracked her knuckles and smiled.

"And so it begins."

Oh, gosh, poetry is so not my strong suit. :P

Questions? Comments? Criticisms? Raves? Drop me a review! I will, in fact, love you forever. :D