#dissection fic

He could feel his transformation tugging on his core and he tried to force it back.

“Jack! Quick, it’s Danny!”

“Please,” begged Danny. Even kneeling was getting to be too much. Blackness was threatening the edges of his vision so he closed his eyes. He had to keep from transforming. He had to.

He didn’t even have the breath to scream anymore.

He heard his dad’s voice. There was a flash of light. And then nothing.

---

The first thing Danny was aware of was that everything hurt. His muscles were aching and his right arm was practically numb. The next thing he noticed was that he way lying on something hard. He tried to roll over, only to realize he was strapped down. And not just at his wrists and ankles, but also at his waist and neck.

His eyes flew open in shock and he yelled in panic. Had Vlad gotten him?

“It’s awake, Mads!”

Orange filled his vision as his dad leaned over him.

“D-dad?” asked Danny. He felt his core humming in his chest. His core, not his heart. He twisted his head just enough to see a black jumpsuit.

He was Phantom. His parents knew.

His dad’s face contorted with anger, an expression he’d never once seen there before. “Don’t you dare call me that, impostor! What have you done with my son?”

“Dad, it’s me. I swear. I—I can explain.” He tugged on his restraints, trying to phase through them. Only to scream as the anti-ghost shielding shocked him.

His mom’s steps echoed from out of sight. “You aren’t escaping us that easily, ghost,” she spat the last word. “How long have you been possessing Danny?” She finally came into view, goggles blocking her eyes and her mouth hard.

“I’m not possessing him, I am Danny!”

She sneered. “Jack, now.”

“Release our son!” shouted his father. Then he pulled out a spray can and held down the nozzle.

Danny saw the mist approach him and scrunched his eyes closed as he turned his head to avoid the spray. But of course it was impossible. He whimpered as it settled on him, tiny pinpricks of burning. As he lay there, the feeling grew more and more intense until he couldn’t help but cry out.

And that’s when he breathed it in.

It was all agony, inside and out. The mist settled in his lungs, pure fire trying to melt core.

With a flash of light, he was Danny Fenton again. His heart beat in his chest and his lungs screamed for oxygen. The pain didn’t go away, but it lessened. Danny gasped in deep breaths, his limbs shaking in their restraints as he tried to push through the pain.

“Did it work?” asked his dad.

Fingers brushed his hair off his forehead. “Sweetie? Are you back with us?”

Danny opened his eyes, tears gathering and looked up at the face of his mother.

Her expression turned from hope to hatred so fast he thought he was dreaming. “Green eyes, Jack. The ghost is just trying to trick us.”

“The ghost repellent has never failed before. How are you surviving, ghost?”

Danny screwed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see his parents’ faces. “It’s me, I promise. It’s me. I’m alive. I’m alive.”

“Stop lying!” screamed his mom.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a wave of agony. He felt like he was being electrocuted again. In defense, he transformed back into Phantom—his ghost form was so much more durable.

But the pain only got worse. He screamed. His wail was crawling its way up his throat, only to fizzle out into a wave of electricity when it hit the anti-ghost restraint strapped around his neck.

“Loud, isn’t it?” asked his father.

“Let’s shut it up, Jack,” said his mother.

“No, no please. It’s me, Danny!”

They ignored him, though. The pain stopped just long enough for him to gasp in a few breaths. Then piece of metal was being fixed under his jaw and over his mouth. His head was yanked up so it could be strapped in the back. Danny tried to yell into the muzzle, but it muffled all sound.

After that, he lost track of what they did. So many inventions were taken out, used, and discarded. Anything to destroy the ghost part of him or force him out of his living body.

He wished he could obey. That he could just be their son again and not Phantom. But he’d learned many times over the last three years that it was impossible. He was both Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom and spitting himself apart would only ever lead to destruction.

He didn’t know how many times he was forced into a transformation as his body tried to choose the form more resistant to the torture. It didn’t seem to matter, though, if he was Fenton or Phantom. His parents would check his eyes or use the ghost tracker and then the next wave of pain would wash over him.

Eventually, however, even his parents ran out of inventions to use.

“This isn’t working, Jackie.”

“What if we can’t force it out, Mads? What next?”

“We’ll cut it out. You know we’ve long hypothesized about the existence of a ghost heart. What better way to test our hypothesis than cutting the parasite out of our own son?”

Danny’s eyes flew open and he tugged with aching muscles, twisting as much as he was able. His muffled protests were ignored just as much as his words had been.

“Where do you think it’s hiding its heart?” asked his dad.

“We’ll use the Fenton Scanner to find the areas of densest ectoplasm concentration and search each of them.”

His mom stalked out of sight and Danny could hear her rummaging through various bins and cabinets looking for the scanner.

His dad, however, stared down at him, eyes hidden behind his goggles and his mouth in an uncharacteristic frown. “If you’re still in there, Danno, we’re gonna get rid of it. We’ll free you, son.”

Danny wanted to tell him he wasn’t trapped, to say again that he was himself, whatever he looked like. But all he could do was whimper and blink away the tears.

Then mom was back, a small scanner in her hand. She pointed it at Danny and he tensed, expecting more pain.

But he felt nothing. Soon enough, the device beeped and she waved over his dad.

“Look at this, sweetie. It’s working better than I expected. Only two main areas of ectoplasm concentration: his brain and his chest.”

“That’s awfully close to his heart, Mads. I don’t know if we can remove it without hurting Danny.”

“If we don’t remove it, he’ll be dead anyway!” Her last word caught on a sob.

Danny was crying in earnest now, too. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. How long would it take anyone to even notice? Jazz was away at college, Tucker had plans with his parents all night, Sam was trying to get along with her parents to get out of a rich-person function later in the month, and he and Tim didn’t have a check-in until Sunday.

Could he survive his parents for two whole days until then?

He forced his eyes open to see his parents hugging. All he wanted was to be between them, caught up in their embrace. But instead he was strapped down to a hard, cold table.

They separated.

“Hold him still, Jack,” said his mom.

So Danny did the opposite. He ignored the ache of his muscles, the way they protested, to twist and yank and move as much as he could.

But his father’s hands were big and he was strong and Danny was tired. When his dad spread his hands over his shoulders and pressed, Danny couldn’t fight back. Above him stood his mom, holding a scalpel that glowed green.

Danny closed his eyes tightly when he saw her lower the blade. He couldn’t watch this. Then agony as it sliced through his skin.

Danny screamed into the muzzle. The pain was so intense that he could focus on nothing else. He didn’t know if his parents were talking to each other. He didn’t know what they were finding inside of him.

Instinct forced him to hide his core, to push it smaller and disguise it. But he knew that nothing would stop his parents forever.

He had no way to judge the passage of time. It felt like an eternity; it felt like a second.

Then the hands on him ripped away suddenly and new shouts, new voices, rang out in the lab.

Danny blinked his eyes open to see Sam and Tucker above him. Sam was paler than he’d ever seen her and Tucker didn’t look any better. He tried to talk to them, but the muzzle still covered his face.

Sam turned her head away and shouted, “Kon!”

A moment later, Superboy was landing next to her, his face grim. Then Danny’s restraints, muzzle included, fell to pieces. He was free.

He pushed himself up, needing to see, only to cry in pain and fall back down when the cuts on his chest protested the movement.

Sam and Tucker shouted at him, told him to stay still. Their words were fuzzy and hard to focus on. Everything was hard to focus on. But in the brief moment of time he’d been able to see more than the ceiling above him, he saw Tim in full Red Robin get up using his staff to keep his parents away.

Tim was here. And the world went black.

-----

Next

I no longer tag, but if you want notifications when I update, check out the Subscription Post.

After about 40k of writing, we're finally back to the scene that started it all! Only now with 4x the number of Young Justice on hand. About three years have passed between Arc 2 and Arc 3, so they've all gotten quite close. There's group chats. So many group chats. Danny's met more members of the Young Justice (and I may write a few of those meetings in the future which is 80% why I decided to make this a series rather than a single work on AO3).

But on the rescue team we've only got Red Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl, and Impulse.

"i know y'all are going through some stuff,'' clark says, rushing the words a bit as if bruce will interrupt and stomp away. "and i know its none of my business, of course. just. if i can help, i want to. so. please, just rest for a few hours here? i'll handle the boys as long as you need."

"clark," bruce nearly wheezes. "the bed you gave me is fine. i-"

"how long did you sleep?"

two hours total, but thats irrelevant.

"you dont know me," bruce accuses. "it's been a /day/, kent."

clark nods resolutely. "i know. and you… dont have to say yes. i /want/ you to say yes, because i know sleeping in a different bed in a strange place can make youfeel…" clark shudders. "can make everything feel worse. but. i promise the bed is warm. its a firmer mattress, so it'll help you with any back pain. and, this room doesnt get much light til the sun sets so, you can really sleep as long as you like. all day, if thats what you want."

he's rambling nonsense, but bruce's shoulders relax. all he sees is a lonely man trying his best and. and bruce's heart pangs. sympathy, maybe. maybe he just knows that helplessness that clark is feeling. the difference is bruce had offered the bedrooms in his home to children with no one else. clark is offering it to a perfect stranger, uncaring of the damage bruce could inflict on his parent's room. bruce could go crazy, slam his hands against the walls until the picture frames slipped and shattered against the floor. rip the sheets and covers off of the bed until they ripped.

clark slowly offers a hand out to bruce, and gestures towards the bed with the other. "just five minutes?"

bruce steps forward.

its. /strange/. he feels calm, all of a sudden. calmed by clark's offer. bruce would never have accepted this offer in any other circumstance, but theres a pained look in clark's eye, as if he /cant/ leave this alone. as if whatever hurt he sees in bruce's family is hurting /him/ in turn, compelling him to offer whatever comfort he can.

bruce sits on the bed, and clark relaxes.

"okay- okay good. i'll, be downstairs. you just get comfortable and stay as long as you need."

"jason is asleep," bruce mumbles. clark goes still for a moment, before he nods seriously.

"gotcha. i'll head out and get started on chores, then. no worries, i'll keep it quiet."

its 3 in the morning.

"clark," bruce says, and clarks surprised eyes blink up at him in the dark. his eyes are a brilliant blue, bruce notices all of a sudden. then, he notices clark isn't wearing his glasses.

bruce memorizes the way they look, briefly, before he lays flat against the bed, on top of the sheets, and lets his body relax with a soft sigh. "c'mere."

nervously, clark wanders over to his side. "need more pillows?"

"other side," bruce orders, ignoring the offer. "lay down."

"i shouldnt-"

"come."

clark obediently goes to lay on the other side of the bed, as stiff as a board.

they lay like that, awkward, bodies growing a bit cold from the drafty window on the edge of the bedroom. clark keeps fidgeting, hands curling over his belly before he lets them drop to his side again, feet rocking together and apart until he realizes it shakes the bed.

bruce turns his head to look at him.

clark nervously darts his eyes over at the motion, but doesnt turn his head fully.

bruce feels /tired/, all of a sudden. not in a heavy way, but in a way that has his defenses faltering. there is no danger here, with this stranger. and it isnt the first time bruce has been in bed with someone he barely knows. atleast with clark he knows his last name.

bruce rolls over, just so that his hips are facing clark.

"thank you," he whispers, letting his voice drop into a quiet timbre. "you're very kind, clark."

clark swallows heavily. bruce can hear the gulp almost audibly in the dark. "of course. i just want you folks to be comfortable."

bruce watches as clark squeezes his hands into a tight fist at his stomach, as if to hold his nerves in.

bruce lifts his head, letting one hand cup against his neck to support himself while the other reaches forward, touching clark's bicep.

the muscles /jump/ beneath the skin, but clark is still as a statue otherwise.

"… bruce?"

"mm."

bruce's fingers run down clark's skin, until they catch at the sharp curve of the inside of his elbow. clark finally turns to look at him.

"i can go, if you want me to," clark says quietly. he doesnt look bruce in the eye, exactly, but seems to try with the way his irises dance back and forth across the features of bruce's face.

bruce isnt sure what he's doing.

there's /something/ like a heat that has built in his stomach, but it also sort of feels like nausea. like /nerves/. the heat positively radiating off of clark is grounding, in a way.

he shouldnt, bruce realizes all at once. he shouldnt be touching his lovely host like this, in the dark of night after comforting his child who hates him, after running way from home because he's lost himself so much that he doesnt know what else to do for his family.

but… clark is here. hasnt pulled away from bruce's clammy fingers, even when they crawled forward to press solidly against clark's covered chest.

bruce wants… that warmth of his to wash over him fully. to cover bruce from head to toe, for the shadows of clark's body to cover him and replace the shadows of bruce's demons. its… probably selfish.

"i want you to stay," bruce says, after a few minutes of silence. "do you want to stay?"

clark swallows again, dry this time. bruce lifts his upper hafl fully, fitting his palm against the mattress to slide closer to clark. their legs touch.

clark shudders, eyes shutting.

"i'm- i dont want to overstep-"

"you wont," bruce whispers. "do you want this?"

clark finally moves, then. he sits up to match bruce's height, though it isnt far at all. the curl of his hair, at the front near the apex of his forehead, tilts to one side as clark fully regards him, as if he can see every detail of bruce even in the dark.

"yes…" clark murmurs shyly. "but ive never…"

"with a man?" bruce reaches out, touching that curl before he tucks it back against clark's scalp. it bounces back, stubbornly, and ends up curled around bruce's ring finger. clark is too busy looking at bruce like he's starving to even notice.

"with a stranger," clark offers instead. his voice has gone deeper, too. less shy, but no less halting, like he will startle bruce away like a deer in the woods.

bruce nods, once.

"have you…? with strangers?"

bruce cant hold back his amused snort in time, but the noise makes clark break out into a gentle smile.

"i have," bruce offers. "so you're in good hands, stranger."

clark smiles fuller, then. bruce leans down, until they're sharing airspace and he can feel the tickle of clark's breath against his chin.

"don't i know it," clark nearly moans, eyes fluttering half shut as he looks /down/, right at bruce's lips. bruce licks them, and clark's mouth parts like he's waiting for that tongue to sneak inside, already.

needy.

bruce leans forward and kisses him.

he can recognize, hollowly, that this is innappropriate. that they're both grieving men, in different ways. that…. that maybe bruce is taking advtange of that gentle kindness calrk is extending to him. or maybe clark is taking advtange of bruce's desperate need for /one/ person in this house to not hate him (not that clark knows that).

he can also recognize that it feels /nice/. that clark is gentle to a fault, curling heavy hands against bruce's waist when bruce straddles him, staying obediently still when bruce trails his kisses lower ot his neck, nipping at the adam's apple that bobs when he passes his lips over it,

he wants this. and clark lets him want it. /gives/ it to him.

[mention of fading bruises, from a bullet wound on his side. its painful but healing, yellowed and black at the edges.

"what happened," clark murmurs, aghast. bruce simply shakes his head.

"just a miscalculation." bruce's eyes glance up, away from clark's gaze as it passes over him, as if he wants to heal it just by looking at it closely. "i'm fine."

clark shakes his head, but doesn't say much else. he looks troubled, briefly.

bruce presses his thumb against the middle of clark's forehead until the wrinkle in his brow dissolves. then he kisses it, a simple press of his lips against the bridge of clark's nose.

it makes the other man melt.

// end snippet ( I HAVENT PLANNED THE SEX SCENE YET but clark gets four fingers in his hole, that's a guarantee)

here's another link to the Formatted snippet as mentioned above as well, just so you don't have to scroll back up !

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dissection au (link to the other post talkin about it more!)

NOWWW dissection au i dont have much more to offer unfortunately, but i WILL say i am very excited to write a sort of 'aftercare' scene. they don't actually have sex or anything while clark is all cut open (although,... that idea May change in the future if i go crazy--), BUT it will have a lot lot lot of sexual tension and erotic horror, and it'll definitely bring them both closer together....

i have this image of bruce laying beside clark on the cot as they ramp up the sunlamps so clark can close up his wounds and heal properly. clark is still a bit loopy (kryptonite in his bloodstream does that), so he's just Staring at bruce, eyes half lidded as he seems to study every curve of his facial features.

i also have ONE more idea but its not actually a wip cause i havent drafted anything yet aaaaa (^_^)v but i call it my superbat dissection au, aka the fic where clark lets bruce do whatever the hell he wants to him. its probably gonna be too gorey for a lot of ppl ;;;;; but i got rlly excited abt the concept of clark consensually letting bruce cut him open to study his insides.... for science (and also mildly horny reasons)

literally for months ive been looking for gore art of bruce just holding his intensines, not even in a "i want him dead" way, but entirely in a "this is the body of the alien i love and i want to know everything i can about him Because i love him" kinda way? IF THAT MAKES SENSE

(yes i know i GOTTA watch hannibal-)

ahaha im kinda shy describing it now (*´ω｀*) and i know that sort of body horror-ish stuff isnt for everyone, but i just think it'd be neat to explore! just, batman lovingly dissecting superman....

and the whole time superman is just happy to go along with whatever batman wants to do. he's maybe mildly getting off to the pain bc he's only used to it in fights but Here, with bruce gently touching and prodding his skin as he splits it open, it's erotic. so there would definitely be some masochism at play too BAHAHA

i can totally imagine a scene where superman is a little loopy bc of the kryptonite and he hisses when bruce reaches into the incision and just. casually fingers the wound, spreading it, trying to measure how fast the healing is even though theres no direct sunlight right now

"Are you considering it, Mads?" Jack asked.

They were sitting opposite the kitchen table. Three sheets of lined notebook paper were spread out between them. She tried to keep her eyes focused on Jack, but her peripheral vision kept drawing back to those damned papers. It'd taken Jack many minutes to calm her hysteria after she'd initially read them and she wasn't keen on reliving that.

"Possibly."

He inhaled sharply. "If we did this, would it make us bad parents? Bad people?"

This time, she couldn't help but glance at the paper on the table. Danny's Last Will and Testament was a little frayed at the edges and tearstained, but its message was intact. Carefully, Maddie drew her finger over the paper. "He gave his consent."

Jack shook his head. "Consent doesn't excuse that this is wrong."

"I know." She bit her lip. "But I'm okay with being a bad person."

"Please, don't say that…."

Something about Jack's soft-spoken plea set Maddie off. She knew that he was grieving as much as she was, but she couldn't contain her frustration. She clenched the edge of the table and tried not to dig her fingers into the wood.

"Isn't it true? Look at what we've done already! Because of our negligence, Danny died in our basement when he was fourteen. When he finally told us last year, he thought we were going to kill him! And instead of trying to fix him, we let him resume ghost hunting! We let himself get him killed by that—that shadow ghost!"

"Mads—"

"My baby died because I didn't want to tell him he couldn't hunt ghosts. He died on a dirty street, twisted under some electrical cables, in the middle of the night. And he died alone. Aren't I already a bad person?"

Jack's eyes welled with tears.

"Stop it—" he choked. "Danny di—n't—"

"Danny understood how valuable his body was. He wanted us to do this. Even though it's—it's wrong, I'm committed to scientific discovery. Think of what we could learn!"

"Maddie, it's our son's corpse! I don't… I can't…"

"It'd be a clean dissection. We'd collect our data and then patch him up before the funeral. It's already closed casket so nobody will think anything of it."

"I'll think of it!" Jack pounded his fist against the table. "How can you suggest that we're supposed to just cut him up like a piece of meat? Like a cadaver!"

"It is a cadaver. Danny's dead, it isn't him anymore. And this is our last opportunity to ever evaluate a half-ghost, to see what makes them tick. Hell, Danny suggested it! He knew how much his body would benefit science!"

"No, he didn't. You know as well as I do that he didn't give a damn about science. He knew how much you wanted to experiment on him."

Maddie's cheeks burned. "Excuse me?"

"He wasn't naïve! You were so obvious! Dropping all those 'subtle' hints that you wanted him to spend more time in the lab… that you thought his core would be 'neat' to run scans on!"

She couldn't decide if she was furious or flabbergasted. She couldn't believe that Jack had the nerve to accuse her of that!

She grit her teeth. "Don't you dare make this about me, Jack Fenton. I know for a fact that you wanted to vivisect him too."

"No, no I didn't!" he denied.

Bullshit.

"You can't fool me, Jack. You had your own way of expressing it and I've seen it in your eyes. That… curiosity."

"I—I don't—"

"You might not admit it, but we both know I'm right. A genetically modified human hybrid is any scientist's dream! Tearing one apart—although, inhumane—is a privilege!"

"I never wanted to hurt my son," Jack protested. "Never."

"I never did either—but that didn't stop me from fantasizing. And now, we can play out our fantasies without harming him. Don't you see? Danny saw it, that's why he consented!"

"This is so fucked up, Mads. We're fucked up."

"Oh, definitely." Maddie brushed her hand through her hair. "So will you do it?"

Jack hesitated. "Will you?"

"Only if you agree."

He took a shaky breath. "Alright. Let's… let's dissect our son."

Maddie smiled. "For research."