Happy 12th Dannyversary!

I wanted to post something today for celebration, so here's something I had lying around from a story that I was thinking about doing, but discontinued. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. All rights go to the show's writer Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios. Please support the official release.

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Our Freaky Little Hero

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Space Geek. Fentina. Fenturd. Babypop. Halfa. Ghost Boy. Dipstick. Whelp.

Danny had been called many less than flattering names throughout his life, even more so after becoming Phantom. While the words hurt when he first heard them, he was used to them by now. Some names were harder to deal with, mostly the ones his parents flung careless at him while shooting at his "strange form of post human consciousness", but lately even those long phrases were amusing. It wasn't like what they said were true; he knew his parents were wrong about (most) ghosts, and it was kind of funny to see what ridiculous variation of "non-feeling ectoplasmic entity" they could come up with next.

But one cruel name had always stuck with him, despite the many times he'd heard it. If someone called him that, it instantly put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day, no matter ghost, human, or something in between.

Freak.

Maybe it was because of his desire to be something close to normal, or maybe because with becoming a halfa, how close the words rang true. But that name... Freak. It more than stung. Being a freak meant something wrong, something to be gawked at, or just simply being a thing not considered human enough to be granted the title of a person.

But despite the word, banging through his head, Danny kept going, missing classes, hanging in assignments late, and getting his daily doses of bruises and scars for the sake of his town. After all, it didn't really matter if he was a freak or not, people were replying on him to save them.

Despite what any of them thought of him, Danny would never stop protecting Amity park. He'd eat his own shoe before he let someone get hurt just because someone hurt his feelings.

It just meant that some days were better than others, especially when some of those days involved sneering civilians throwing garage and jeering at him during his nightly patrols.

Still, alll in a day's work for the hero of Amity Park.

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"Thank you."

Danny blinked, as he capped the thermos after a particularly nasty fight with a giant lion ghost. He twisted around in the air and looked towards where the voice piped up.

The halfa stared confusedly at the sight.

There was a woman clutching a young girl in her arms. The child looked no older than three and four, as she buried her little head into who he assumed to be her mother's shoulder. Both had light brown skin, thick black hair, and the same middle class clothes that dominated Amity Park's demographic. However, with the small rips and tears in their dresses, the small bleeding scraps covering their arms, faces, and legs, and the dust from the destroyed building behind them, they looked to be coming back from a war zone rather than whatever normal thing they were doing beforehand.

Because that was what danger did; it broke down any perceived sociological barriers that society decided to create until all what was left was grime, blood, and the adrenaline that came with near death experiences. Danny had seen it multiple times since his ghost fighting career started. When lives were on the line and people were in danger, it didn't matter who was who or how much money they made in the year; a stray ecto-shot or a badly placed ghost animal claw would still hurt the poorest of the street urchins or the richest high rollers of society.

It was sad in a way. Buildings didn't care who they fell on, but the rich still wanted to find a way to sue Phantom when their thousand dollar manicures, too-expensive high heels, and name branded flowery patterned dresses were ruined by raining brick bits.

But now, against all odds, someone was thanking him. A normal person who thought he was a ghost. A normal person who had their own life and child to take care of. A normal person who acknowledged him as something more a menace that should be destroyed or necessary evil that co-existed among ghosts.

Essentially, a normal person was thanking him for being a freak.

It was a lot to take in.

Danny blinked and stared at the woman. Here, in the middle of the street with the cracked concrete, damaged buildings, and with him being well…God knew how torn up he looked, there was a woman risking her life to thank him.

And so, he said the only thing his short circuiting brain could come up with.

"You're welcome."

The small, almost tearful smile the mother gave him, as she clutched the terrified child closer to herself, ran away from the wreckage, turned around midway, and gave him a small nod, made him think that maybe just maybe that being a freak wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Or at least, it gave him another reason to keep fighting… despite what he was.

Critiques are loved! Tell me if you like something. Tell me if something sucks. I know it was short, but I thought it made its point.

Again, Happy Dannyversary! Hope you had halfa good of a day as I did! See you guys later.

~LunagaleMaster