Down the Fandom Plughole

First finished image in Clip Studio Paint! Yay!

So, I know it's been a long time, but going through my old works I found some more Persona 3/Pokemon crossovers so guess what? SEES in Sinnoh is BACK, baby! This time I've got the protagonists and Yukari

*yeets various Doctors into the Constant*

More Doctor Who/Don't Starve baby!

Experts have identified the skeletons as Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally vi Britannia, the two children of the late Empress Marianne, who were sent to Area 11 as part of international negotiations seven years ago, and believed dead during the invasion."

A series of gasps resounded in the student council room.

Rivalz and Kallen sat with their jaws open. Shirley's hands covered her mouth with a squeak...

"Lelouch?" mumbled Nina lowly, "Nunnally?"

...and Milly whipped around in a shocked flash.

("—with this recent discovery, we can now sadly confirm what has been believed since they first disappeared—")

(Me know my art is crap. Me keep the rough sketch anyway because lineart too hard)

Code Geass x Hazbin Hotel OST has been living in my head rent free. So I need to dump it all out.

Imagine "Don't You Forget (Reprise)", but it's Suzalulu

"Can I take this off?" Her son groaned, "I don't really have to walk around with this, do I?"

She sighed with a gentle chuckle.

"Sure, sweetie. Just as long as you keep the jumpsuit on. Safety rules."

With a sigh of great relief, Danny ripped the patch of Jack's face off his chest.

...she really hoped it wouldn't upset Jack that much.

As much as she loved her husband's antics, she knew things like this didn't sit well with her youngest.

She had no reason not to let this slide.

Jack, meanwhile, sat at the control panel—tinkering away with the buttons and checking the settings and power attachments.

"Can I go take a look?" Danny asked.

"Sure thing, kiddo!" Jack beamed. Maddie elbowed him quickly in the side.

"Jack!"

He shrugged.

"What? It's all off right now, everything's fine!"

Maddie sighed with light exasperation at her husband, and made her way over to the control panel.

"Any idea what's wrong with it?" She asked. He shook his head, sadly.

"Nope. We have everything calibrated exactly according to the blueprints. We should have it working this time. It just...isn't."

...screams exploded into the air behind them.

The couple froze dead.

There was barely time to react—they whipped around.

In an entire second, Jack and Maddie's lives flipped completely upside down.

The portal frame, once empty, set alight with a blinding green like fire, and the silhouette of their son inside arched backwards, one hand planted firmly onto the inner wall.

Maddie's heart leapt up her throat, her mind desperately pleading for it not to be real.

"JACK! TURN IT OFF!" she screamed.

He jammed the power button on the panel futilely.

"I CAN'T! IT'S ALREADY OFF!"

The screams echoed...

Wild, guttural, agonising, feral...

Heartbreaking screams.

Jack, in hard desperation, finally launched forward to the cord on the floor, ripped out the plug, but the blinding assault asserted its own due time—its right, bought by hundreds of brutal volts, to start and end as it pleased.

...finally, after a painful eternity, the light faded without a sound. Maddie's scream was guttural.

"DANNY!"

The blinding shimmering faded...but the greenness did not. The portal was no longer empty—now swirling with an inhuman vortex...

The lab fell into stillness, silent save for the gentle humming of the portal.

Seconds passed, agonisingly.

...

In the silence, in the emptiness, a small figure stumbled out of the portal.

A glowing figure, dressed in black, with a shock of white hair.

The white fringe steered upwards, and a deep horror welled in Maddie's throat.

That hair should've been black.

She could see it—the lithe body, the now-black jumpsuit that should've been white, the young boyish features an unmistakeable mix of her and her husband's.

"...mum?" The voice hissed, less like a true reverberation from a voice box and more like a whistle on a wind.

Maddie's hands dart to her mouth in horror. Unshed tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Green eyes—acid-green, ectoplasmic-green—flicked upwards and caught hers with a magnetic pull.

The form glowed with an unearthly aura, slumped on the laboratory floor.

Slowly, that gaze drifted down to his hands—to the sight of glowing white gloves...

...the clueless daze escalated into panic.

"...w-what...what's going on...?! What happened to me...?!"

The ghost's eyes flickered to Maddie.

"...mum...? No...please don't cry! ...please...!"

The figure stumbled to its feet. Its steps barely rang about the lab, traitorously silent as if pulled by something weightless, and it crooned out with a shaking hand.

Years of rational theory-crafting and research in the back of her head rattled on, in a voice cold and clinical.

This was a ghost...

A real, completely undeniable ghost.

"Mads—" Jack warned, his own his eyes wide in horror, but she didn't hear him. She stumbled forward.

But the part of her warning of hollow echoes of consciousness and shallow tricks faded out under the pain wrenching in her chest.

...she was a mother.

"Danny?"

The spectre's face stiffened with recognition at the name. Got up on two feet and shakily stumbled.

In a brief, but sickening, flash...Maddie was thirteen years younger, and her infant son was toddling up on his feet for the first time. She held her arms out in eager excitement.

But then the cruel reality flashed into the present. The form that shook before her was glowing and ethereal, see-through like the smoke of a dying fire.

This was not a birth...but a death.

The spectre made it several steps, but after a short few seconds he collapsed to his knees—right as her arms opened.

...rather than her hands catching him as he stumbled, he fell right through her arms, leaving faint ectoplasmic whisps on her gloves.

(Jack followed suit—approached them hesitantly, wrapped an arm around her and huddles over the prone form that had just slipped through her fingers).

They barely had a second to speak, to mourn, to pull back with a deep breath and piece the scattered fragments of order in their head back together—

A strange halo of light burst into existence at the ghost's waist. It split into two, travelling in both directions over the glowing shape...

...the glow receded. The jumpsuit became white, the hair black, the skin pale and cold but human—

Blue eyes blinked rapidly. Her baby took deep staggering breaths, hands reaching out for her, shaking.

Her mind broke.

Time slowed down. Confusion crawled out of her stomach and up her throat, and for once, Maddie couldn't breathe.

What...?

What just happened?

The traitorous terror dissolved into the ambivolous presence of bemused relief.

"...Danny?" She asked quietly.

Her son squeezed his eyes shut beneath her. She grabbed for his wrist, hauled off the glove with a desperate fervour to feel the vein beneath.

...it thrummed with life underneath the skin.

A wave of confusion washed over Maddie. Her mind froze in its tracks. Her head so light she felt like she could faint.

"Am I...a ghost?" Danny finally croaked, "Am I dead?"

Slowly, befuddled, Maddie shook her head.

"I...I don't know—"

It should've been obvious. It should've been impossible.

If the Persona protags had ace Pokemon. I won't apologise for the half-assed shading.

(Part one, for anyone who wants to see)

Nick called the boy into the interrogation room.

Hank watched carefully from the outside window as the boy sat down in the subject's chair, and Nick took the interrogator's.

"Sorry for the setting. I know a police headquarters can probably seem pretty intimidating..." Nick began with an icebreaker. He flipped through the records from the scene. "...so, your name is...Fenton?"

The boy grunted. "Danny Fenton".

"Nice to meet you then, Danny." He offered out a hand. "Detective Nick Burkhardt." Danny reluctantly reached out, shaking it with a light grip.

"So, is this about the accident? My parents probably already told you everything you need to know, right?"

"The vehicle in front of them ran straight along the road, the victim suddenly jumped out and got hit. Yeah that pretty much sums it up." Nick answered.

Fenton paused, his brow furrowed in unease.

"...sooo, what do you want with me then? It's not like I can really tell you anything. I was in the back. Couldn't see anything."

...

Finally, checking with a glance that the door was locked and the room deafened with a thumbs up from Hank outside, Nick could get down to the important stuff.

He knew what he'd seen—that pivotal moment outside the swerved vehicles as Sergeant Wu ran up the driver's plate with the two adults, leaving the paramedics to the victim on the road and Nick to his own devices with the children...

The moment that time seemed to slow to a crawl, that he and the boy locked gazes...

The now routinely familiar sight of the child's face shifting—

For a split second, black hair had become white. Blue eyes became green. Rounded ears and canines became pointed. His skin emitted an unearthly glow.

The split second that the changed boy had gazed straight into Nick...and his whole body froze in horror.

The gaze of prey caught in the spotlight of a predator—

Nick sighed to himself. If only this kid would be relatively willing to sit and listen, instead of bolt for the door like so many others had.

"...look, let's just cut to the chase." He began, slowly and deliberately drawing out the sentence. "I saw you, and you saw me. I know what you are, and vice versa."

The kid almost squinted. His voice wavering with a traitorous sliver of unease.

"...what...what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's alright. You haven't done anything wrong yet," he explained, "I'm just curious what kind of Wesen you are."

A moment of silence passed.

...Fenton blinked, slowly and owlishly.

"...Ves-sen? What the heck is that?"

"What do you mean?" Nick replied. "It's what you are."

The boy's eyes narrowed.

"Look...whatever you're talking about, I promise I have no idea."

Ah, right. The act clueless plan. The corner so many Wesen in the interrogation room had pulled into to back away from the gaze of the Grimm.

Nick wasn't about to let it just slide.

"Listen, we don't have to play dumb here. I saw you woge."

"Okay, seriously, what does that even mean?!" Danny exclaimed. "You're not even talking English anymore!"

Nick sighed.

If the kid wanted to play this game...

"Alright then. I saw you...change."

...that got a reaction.

The child froze. All sense of witty snark dropped from his face like he'd fumbled with a hot stone. His eyes shot wide open in horror, pooling with a sense of understanding and sheer dread.

His mouth stopped producing sound, momentarily opening and closing in a wordless stutter.

The rigid panic of a stiffened deer in the headlights gazed back at the detective as his witness's world fell apart.

Finally, the boy found his voice again. Unintelligible mutters rose to a frantic babble.

"...wait what?! When—but that's impossible! I never—y-you couldn't have—how?!"

Giving him a gracious second, Nick supplied the answer for him. Even though, really, it should have been obvious.

"When we first met. At the scene of the accident, remember?"

(Danny's face screwed up as he tried to plod through his recent memories. He remembered the inhuman darkness in the man's eyes when they first met—like he was staring into a bottomless abyss, holes into the void planted on a human face.

...something he'd taken, in the absence of his ghost sense, as a simple trick of the light.)

"...Oh my god. Listen, you have to promise not to tell anybody—"

"What—of course not! This stays strictly between us."

"No. You don't understand how important this is." The boy's tone became serious. Grave. "If anybody knows, they'll hunt me down—"

"I promise, I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" Nick put up his hands in a show of non-violence. "I'm a...friendly Grimm, I guess you could say."

Panic dropped in an instant—morphed into confusion...

The kid frowned.

"...what's a 'Grimm?'"

Nick's brow furrowed.

...maybe...maybe this kid wasn't playing dumb at all.

The ridiculous, nigh impossible scenario he never thought he'd witness finally stared him straight in the face.

Huntr/x as Persona users.

Instead of fighting demons, they fight Shadows in the cogntitive world. Instead of a demon king, Gwi-ma is a godlike being born from the collective unconscious and all of its inner turmoil and malice, similar to how Yaldabaoth from P5 and Ame no Sagiri from P4 were born from the collective unconscious and humanity's desires to be controlled/turn away from the truth respectively.

The existence of demons (now Shadows) in the human world pre-Honmoon was due to a disaster where the cognitive world fused with the human world, a la Mementos coming to Tokyo in P5. The first huntresses created the Honmoon using their Persona powers and collective human cognition to seal away Gwi-ma and separate the worlds again. Spreading the emotional connection through song was how they rallied the hearts of humanity and created a collective cognition.

So the Honmoon is a Metaverse construct, similar to Palaces or Mementos. Instead of a barrier blocking out the Demon world, it blocks out Gwi Ma and Shadows from reality. But it also blocks the collective human unconscious from Shadows...including their own. It becomes a temporary situation like the whole ordeal in P3 with the protag's soul sealing away Erebus (humanity's collective desire for death) from reaching Nyx. It's not a permanent solution and has to constantly be replenished.

Like Maruki's Palace, it has a protective intent or an idealised benefit to humanity, but it enforces a sense of cognitive sterility and conformity. It rejects the inner darkness and imperfections of humanity. Thus, Gwi-Ma festers and continues to feast on human minds the way we see Shadows feast on humans in the Dark Hour in P3. Each new generation, a new trio with the potential for a Persona and the ability to carry out the song performances are chosen to become the new hunters. By becoming kpop stars and more famous among the public, their power and access to the cognitive world increases. Like how fame gives the Phantom Thieves deeper access to Mementos.

Without knowing it, Huntr/x were continuing the tradition of unwittingly cutting off mankind from its collective shadow, not realising that imprisoning the darkness isn't the good deed they've been taught it is.

Perhaps they go on a world tour—next stop, Japan—to spread the Honmoon further outside of Korea. The Phantom Thieves, now in their college years, stumble across the spreading Honmoon at a Huntr/x live performance. They sniff out something suspicious about it and see it as Palace-adjacent—a structure to be raided and a treasure to be stolen, to fight the grip of a false peace.

"Hey."

"Hey, man!" Monroe's voice came from the other side, "Sooo...what's it this time? Is this about work?"

"You can tell?" Nick asked.

"Well, it's been a while since you called up about anything leisure-y." He replied, "So, whatcha got?"

Nick swallowed his spit and collected himself. He began with a sigh.

"...listen, I need to know if there's any basis for myths about ghosts."

"...ghosts? Seriously?" he could almost hear Monroe gawking on other end of the line, "...listen...Wesen are like...we're like our own class of species. Like there are dogs and cats and birds, you've got Blutbaden and Fuschbau....sure, we became myths over time, but that's because people saw us. Not every myth under the sun has a Wesen behind it out there. And ghosts? That's pretty much as mythological as you can get. Closest you'd get are apparitions or illusions conjured by a Hexenbeist, but...that's just a long shot. Why?"

"Just thought I'd ask." Nick answered, "I've got some witnesses out here, a family of four. They're tourists from Illinois—and apparently, ghost hunters."

"Yeah, they sound like whackjobs." Monroe dismissed, "...unless that's just a front, and they're secretly Grimm, or something..."

"Oh no," he answered, "I uh...I've already questioned the parents. In private. They seemed oddly enthusiastic to talk about what they do and based off of that—well... the father just rambled on about 'obsessions' and 'ectoplasm' for half an hour."

"...oh. Definitely whackjobs then. I wouldn't lose sleep over it, dude."

I have severe OCD and it's stopped me from making fanfic but for the first time in years I have posted one! Yes! Exposure!

...now I just need to keep it up. Somehow.

Enjoy your Dannyversary

(Idk how people do that fancy ao3 insert thing did I put in the link wrong? Someone help me lmao)

(from someone who actually has OCD)

(ie. if Kid had realistic OCD and wasn't just some orderly neatfreak stereotype)

-symmetry OCD is typically less about arranging things, but involving actions or bodily motions and having to get them even (eg. If you do an action with one hand, you feel like you have to do it with the other as well, making your steps even with both feet, touching one side of your face then touching the other, etc.), or needing a general "feeling" of evenness with certain things;

-it wouldn't be played for laughs, and it wouldn't virtually disappear (for all but a few instances) in the middle of missions; he would be a lot more bothered by everything around him (unless he has mild OCD that only comes in attacks; I feel like mine is constant personally)

(Disclaimer I've never had symmetry as an OCD theme so I'm going off of what I've read online and from other people)

-Kid's attention to symmetry and obsessions being connected to the Madness of Order in canon strikes me more as possible moral/scrupulosity OCD to me—his upbringing and hearing about balance from his dad feels like a moral obsession with order and evenness and perfectionism and he could be obsessed with/uncertain of not living up to those expectations and being morally good enough

-he probably wouldn't just be obsessed with symmetry as OCD tends to shift themes; it's about intrusive thoughts and compulsions so it's going to shift with the content of his mind

-8 being a good number makes sense; superstitious and magical thinking is common with OCD

-he probably has counting compulsions related to numerous activities or things

-he has just right OCD where he needs to do certain things to feel "just right" or relieve an internal feeling of wrongness, even if they make absolutely no sense (could apply to having things arranged physically right)

-no, actually Gallows Manor is NOT arranged in perfect neatness because Kid is a neat freak; OCD is not about being a neat freak; it's clean because Lord Death hires staff to keep it maintained and Kid barely touches stuff where it lies unless necessary (because then he HAS to avoid feeling compelled to put it back in a way that feels just right and it feels like nothing is ever enough); symmetry OCD doesn't really mean that your surroundings have to be symmetrical and realistically, if Kid lived in a house that big that he couldn't control the symmetry of and maintain all by himself, he'd go insane; if Kid DOES have problems with things not being neat, it's restricted to specific places or rooms that are personal and they are actually not cleaned that often because he DESPISES getting stuck in his OCD for HOURS trying to arrange everything just right; cleaning or making things neat is a MAJOR source of stress if he is tries to clean things himself so often times those room deteriorate if somebody else doesn't clean them and he gets mad at himself for it because he can't live comfortably in the messiness either but he KNOWS how hard cleaning it will be if he has to do it so he shoves the feelings down so he doesn't feel compelled because feeling compelled to go through such a difficult task every time he feels like it's not good enough is a fucking NIGHTMARE

-he struggles with OCD around his handwriting not being neat enough and avoids it by using typing instead where he can

-he feels extremely morally responsible for Liz and Patty's safety and has to do rituals to feel like something bad isn't going to happen to them (obsessions about them dying or getting hurt)

-body dysmorphia-esque thoughts around his stripes, he avoids looking in mirrors so he doesn't trigger it

-he doesn't tell anyone, even his friends, about his more bizarre obessions because they don't make any logical sense, and he's afraid that they'll think he agrees with his intrusive thoughts and that they reflect who he is as a person, because most people don't understand that you're not your thoughts and you can be plagued by thoughts you disagree with

-he can't walk up the steps to school without having to go back down at random points and re-walk it because it feels wrong or stressful, so he usually flies on Beelzebub instead to avoid it

-he has a symmetry obsession where he must touch any door handle he uses with both hands, and has to do it in rounds of eight to feel safe to move on from feeling like it is locked properly; he passively hangs back and let's other people go ahead and use the door for him and only uses the door if he has no other option

-the need for twin weapons is about having an even weight and shape in both hands at once; he feels wrong fighting without being able to replicate what he does in one hand with the other, and that means having the same weapon in both hands

-he fights the urge to repeatedly ask other people for a LOT of reassurance; his OCD makes him feel like a horrible person and a monster and that everyone will notice he's a freak and not human, like it's a bad thing, like they will see him the same way they see witches or kishin

-he has real event OCD that causes him to ruminate A LOT about things he's done in the past and whether he was in the right or not or trying to figure out how to soothe the idea he was in the wrong for it

-he has embarrassing random obsessions, like feeling like he's being stalked or watched or feeling naked in public and having to block out the feelings or thoughts to feel relief

-his obsessions show up in his dreams so he can't even escape them when he sleeps

-religious OCD over other religions being right or gods existing that he doesn't believe in (because he is literally the son of the god of death), but he can't shake the belief or feeling like those other gods are 100% real or may always be real regardless of how hard he argues that they aren't, and he has to pray to them to be safe from their wrath or being sent to hell, fears of being seen as competition and feeling uncomfortable/awkward around openly religious people as a result because he feels like he is repeatedly "competing for space" with their god or that his own existence is a personal insult to their beliefs (feeling of guilt and shame that he uses mental compulsions to block out, or just avoids the feelings)