ghost gibberish

Danny, Sam and Tucker developing their own language, it mostly being a blend of Ghost and Esperanto and gibberish. They use it to communicate to each other without anyone else knowing what they’re saying, when they need to speak about private things, communicate battle tactics without the enemy knowing what they mean, or just to annoy people. 

and then they take it a step further and start speaking in codes in the trio tongue. brief shorthand to get info across quick, like “d7 to mark2-0-K down 9 at count.” the trio are gamers so it’d be similar to how they plan plays, only quicker.

and everyone thinks they’re crazy for having this made up language. Dash teases them because “Didn’t you know you were supposed to grow out of kiddy playing, you dweebs are regressing. Wonder how long till the diapers come into play again.” and they just. talk about how dumb Dash is. right in front of him. because Dash can’t understand. and they laugh about it. and it pisses Dash off. It gets to the point where the trio speak nothing but their own tongue when they’re not in class. they develop a written form of it using ghost letters but they change which letters are assigned to which sounds and combine some letters to form new ones so if even a ghost tried to read what they write it would just be absolute nonsense on top of a language that it wouldn’t know.

Jazz tries to get Danny to teach her, but he refuses because he doesn’t want to confuse her. Teach Sam and Tucker how to speak the handful of ghost sounds that humans couldn’t really replicate had been hard enough. Valerie is confused by the new behavior, but quickly becomes suspicious when she overhears and recognizes a few words being spoken by Phantom.

Jack and Maddie steadily get more and more worried about this kind of behavior because they even speak it to each other when they’re all together in their house. Sam’s parents Blame the Fenton’s for corrupting their daughter by teaching her devil tongues and they don’t believe Jack when he tells them that the language wasn’t Ghostspeak. Tucker’s parents try to not mind but it starts to worry them too. all three sets of parents try to ban the Angela by way of grounding or the threat of not allowing them to see each other anymore, but that just causes the three to shut up. and not say anything, secret language or otherwise. so they eventually just agree to let the kids continue to speak the language though they’re not happy about it, but for their part the trio do cut it down a considerable amount.

Danny accidentally writes part of his papers in the language. Mr. Lancer is beyond done. 

And Vlad just doesn’t even try to understand. Danny tries to annoy him with it but Vlad just ignores him. When Danny doesn’t stop, Vlad begins speaking back to him in an equally nonsensical, fake language, one that he, Jack and Maddie made back in college. it becomes a virtual nonsense conversation because they keep talking to each other but they have i no idea what the other actually means. sometimes it evolves into arguments other times its surprisingly calm and they seem to communicate well. Danny uses every chance he gets to insult Vlad. Vlad uses the opportunity to reveal, in detail, his exact future plans right to Danny’s face.

In regards to that language headcanon that everyone’s getting excited about…
Jack Fenton is not an idiot. He loves to blabber on about a lot of things, and he’s a bit clueless at times, but there are small clues throughout the series that he IS an intelligent man. Why would he build a Ghost Gabber if ghosts communicated in English? Remember, the series addresses a lot of modern beliefs about ghosts. Why would they forget EVPs, one of the most popular tools for ghost hunters?
Ghosts often don’t speak in sound that can be understood. Thus, the Ghost Gabber most likely records EVP and relays it instantly.
It translates Danny’s speech. Presumably, he has the ability to speak ghost, and just doesn’t realise when he does so.

One-Shot: Gibberish. (Ghost Speak)

Warning: Cursing.

Summary: Daniel James Fenton, the freak of Casper High; Everyone talked behind the teens back, they, as in the whole shool and occasionally staff always rumored that sometimes, he wrote (and occasionally spoke) complete gibberish, he couldn’t even write a full paragraph without messing it up and making it impossible to read! (An experienced Lancer would complain) “He’s an odd one at that.”; One would say if he had the courage “It’s freaky”, another would jeer at how stupid Fenton seemed, “He’s probably semi-retarded.” That person would historically assume. But, that’s not the case.

From a certain freaks quoting: “ghost language just won’t give me a break.. Will it?”


It was slow Wednesday, birds chirped, crows cawed, and teachers gave ridiculously long lectures..

“Daniel Fenton.” A slow boring voice called, it was of course, Mr. Lancer, standing expectantly in front of the class, tapping a toe. ‘Oh boy’, a raven haired teen labeled freak reluctantly forced his attention onto the bald, tire bellied, and underly paid teacher; He hated being on the spotlight. And now not being able to go to the bathroom for more than five minutes to escape the classrooms gaze: What was to come, was inevitable.

Gingerly the meek, shy boy got up as slow as possible; not that it was helping the situation at hand. He could see it in his peers eyes just rudely asking him, ‘How long will you getting up take?’ There was a clear distinction of impatience, so they began talking to one another in whispers, resulting to Lancer’s disapproving sigh. The baggy clothed boy, inching towards the front swallowed the building fear that gurgled inside his throat.

“Mr. Fenton, hurry up, please.” The pot bellied teacher scolded, an underlying tone of irritation laced his words. And of course, no one in the whole entire room could blame the clear annoyance in his voice.

While everyone waited expectantly, and thank god- still talking amongst eachother, a few yawns and scratches began to sound from the forever waiting crowd, mostly those who were friendless in this particular class; all in all they seemed calm, bored, whatever names that could possibly describe dying from complete bored-ism, not that that was a word.

As successfully halving their tired eyes, the nervous teen called upon was having an internal panic attack, ‘I can’t do this, I’m gonna make a joke out of myself..’ Danny thought misrably, ‘I wrote it wrong.’ He referred to the oncoming presentation he was to read off of lined paper in front of the whole class.

“Hurry Fento-nail! I can’t sit here all day!” A blonde jock loudly said just as Danny passed the bully, people laughed, for the most part because the blonde was popular. Which irked Danny to his very core.

Clenching and unclenching a fist, the raven haired teen ignored the stupid comment and refocused on the situation, ‘I can’t speak..- I’ll mess up-’ The minor continued to whine in his head, finally at his destination, the boy timidly took the lined paper from the teachers hold still buying some time.. “Good luck.” Mr. Lancer reassured hopelessly; snickers followed after the comment.

Mr. Lancer returning to his desk, clasped his hands together mannerly, a ridiculously broad posture showing his 'professionalism’ as a teacher. Raising a brow, the teacher sighed at the sight he took in unimpressed, Mr. Fenton that was. Slowly looking down at his paper Danny studied the text trying to make sense out of it. It was- again, written in the wrong language. 'Well shit. How do you expect me to read this?’

Nimbly holding the paper, he squinted once more blinking a few times, the letters disassembling and re piecing back to the known language required for the class. Now he saw nothing other than English- it still wasn’t in fact, Mr. Lancer and everyone else saw the gibberish he has written, thinking Daniel Fenton A) has the worst handwriting in the planet, B) he was extremely bad at English. C) He was dumb and or retarded. Or even D) All of the above. As said, everyone talked about it behind his back, anyone who knew about his, 'Gibberish’ handwriting said something along the lines of 'freak’, 'dumbass’, 'retard’, 'loser’, 'different’… Yeah, you get the idea.

;He feels loved. (Note the sarcasm)..

'This should be easy.’ Danny perked his thoughts misrably, his extraordinary baby blue eyes hovering over the paper’s fine writing; It was a beautiful Essay, but sadly Mr. Lancer would probably never know that. Clearing his throat he concentrated, reading the 'English’. “ahm-” he got a feel for his voice to help return his first language, looking around the classroom to see bored faces. But it was to no avail.

“Lҽ αႦɾα ɱσɾɱҽɳƚσɱ ʅαƈ Ⴆσɾϝɾαҽ, ƚҽαʅʅҽ ƈɾσʂɳҽɱσʂ E ραҽ ʅҽ ԃσɳɱαƈɾҽɱႦα Lҽ Eʂʂαყ. Eαɳɠʅҽȥ ɳα ʂρԋҽƈϝ, ɱҽɾɱσɳƚҽɳ Zαԋƈ Sσɾɾҽρ ƈαʂƈαԃҽɱɳ ρɾҽ αʅԃαɳια E ƈσϝɱҽƈαԋ.–”

Laughs bursted out of the classes loud mouths, “Mr. Fenton, you’re reading Gibberish again.” The teacher interrupted with an irked monotone, once again rubbing a temple with one hand formally sitting behind his desk. Danny not quite catching the sentence, looking towards the pot bellied English teacher, and asked, “Exȥҽƚσ ΛЖ?” (Excuse me?) Giggles were echoing around the room. Not understanding what was so funny he rose a high brow lowering the other, an offended look took place on the teens baffled face.

“Mr. Fenton, this is not a joke, now will you read the paper in English, not Gibberish.” The teacher stated, sounding very annoyed; and obviously, he believed Danny was a troublemaker, a misleaded student and child. This he thought proved it. He had so much potential, it’s like he threw it all away without a care, now he sees a slacker, a non enthusiast..

“E ʂρԋҽƈϝ Eαɳɠʅҽȥ ϝιƚσ!” (I’m speaking English fine!) Danny said defensively sounding panicked, and rather stupidly, waving his arms to express how freaked he was. Assuming that’s what the teacher said, deciphering each word and what it could mean by the teacher’s sentence. He tried to keep together, 'It’s happening again.. Isn’t it.’ He face palmed mentally. Again, he wasn’t able to hear english, and accidently traded his regular first language to speak ghost, 'must’ve switched languages.’ he theorized ready to bang his head against his far away, empty desk.

“Mr. Fenton! Please, read in English. Now.” Danny furrowed his brows and looked more intently at the teacher, glancing between his paper and the annoyed nose pinching adult. “Wα-?” He slurred utterly confused at this point, 'this shouldn’t be happening..’. He caught on, Laughs and snickers erupted from the classroom again, they couldn’t hold the momentary stifling any longer. The raven haired boy wanted to hide, he was embarrassed, his hands sweated as his stomach flipped; he was dreadfully uncomfortable. Only one face showed sympathy, namingly Valerie and just maybe Mr.Lancer as he sighed.

Trying his luck to speak again he asked metaphorically crossing his fingers, “Ⴆσɾσɠɳαɾ ʅαƈ E.. Lҽ Eʂʂαყ..?” (Did I mess up.. on the Essay?) Another rain of laughter let out. This was the worse- not completely the worst, but it was still pretty bad. That left a sad looking Fenton.

“Did I, mess, up, on, the, assignment? Fear me.” A robotic voice sounded after the boy’s sentence.. Not good. The boy looked towards the classroom.

“Zʂԋα HαƙXɾҽɳȥσ?” (What the hell?) He mumbled baffled by the sudden noise of some-kind of siri. Everyone stopped including Danny, to turn heads towards the doorway. “What, the, hell? Fear me.” the foreign voice mimicked; this was bad news, it was even worse when two familiar figures stood at the door, a beeping tool in the man’s hand “It’s in here, I’m getting an extremely high amount of ecto-signature on the entity.”

Great, it was not his parents- but the G.I.W, 'Dear God.’ Danny thought, he couldn’t speak anymore, or else they’d find him quicker. Sealing lips shut he tried to act normal. Keyword, 'tried’, 'Don’t avoid contact too much. Don’t stare to much.. Don’t glance to much. Don’t freak, tense, blink too much! Wait no, I can blink some.. right? Wait- no I’m not taking any risks.’ He rambled in his head, muscles stiff, well stiffer since he was already reading his 'Gibberish’ in front of the whole class to humiliate himself, he gave a tight smile and faced the two hunters of which appeared at the classroom doorway.

“It’s this way?” K. a G.I.W agent walked closer to whatever was setting off the tracker; Namingly: Danny. “What?” He pondered standing right in front of the boy, the tracking devices beeper off its honker sounded annoyingly, 'shit.’ was all the innocent blue eyed boy could process at the moment.

The agent then circled him like a shark, two times, “Speak.” K. commanded to the boy. This was a tactic to see if he was a Ghostly entity, or being overshadowed, it was unlikely; but sometimes overshadowing didn’t have to change color of the eyes to that ghostly green to be positive; The boy felt like he was under a microscope, he didn’t like it at all.

“Speak, now.” Agent O. then ordered, both agents towering over the poor boy. Mr. Lancer to the rescue asked interrupting their rude demanding, “Gentlemen, may you please tell me why it is so important to interrupt my class?” He toned defensive, he didn’t have all day ya’ know.

“Sir. There is a powerful entity, 7.2 on the spectral scale, that is by far extremely lethal. And it is right here.” Agent K. spat venomously towards the boy, appointing a glare with the other agent O.. “Now speak.” He hissed in the boy’s face, Danny cringed, eyes watering for keeping them open too long 'Didn’t I say not to do that.’ he reminded himself. The words now registering clearly he trembled slightly.

“I-I Uhh.. Okay?” Danny said, heart beating wildly, 'dear god please tell me I said it in English!’ he could swear the classroom heard the rapid beat in his chest- which actually wasn’t fast at all. (Cause he’s kinda dead.)

He averted his gaze aslight, until agent K. deeply, and affirmatively spoke, “Nevermind, sorry for the misunderstanding. Our technology has been bugged lately, there must be a glitch in the system again.” Giving a curt nod, K. began to walk away outside of the classroom, O. eyeing the boy instead gave a grunt and smoothly said, “I’ll keep an eye on you.” with that the boy shuddered watching the agent follow after his partner.

Sighing Mr. Lancer said, “Mr. Fenton, go back to your seat.” giving up on the boy. With a shy nod the raven teen walked back towards his desk, 'Last second coincidence much?’–

“Oomph-” the boy fell on the ground roughly, laughs bursted out again in the room, a certain blonde pointing at the raven haired victim of which was lying on the ground, 'I love my life..’ Danny mumbled giving up on himself too.

A/N: I’m not the best at fics but.. Thanks really for reading. :)

I relate to Jonathan Crane because I:

  • love horror, Halloween, creeping up behind people and yelling ‘Boo!’
  • am grumpy, cynical, and bitter af.
  • use sarcasm 24/7/365.
  • think books > food and clothing.
  • am always yELLING FOR NO REASON!
  • call people idiots a lot.
  • will hold grudges for literal decades.
  • was bullied as a child and never quite got over it.
  • conversely, had bullying habits myself (the aforementioned creeping up behind people and yelling boo, insulting everyone who looked at me funny, lashing out physically, etc etc).
  • gotta love that autumn/halloween/harvest aesthetic.
  • am a big fan of crows and bats (though that might be ironic…).
  • wear lots of red and brown, and my clothes don’t quite fit.
  • have red hair that’s never not a mess and needs a good cut.

I relate to Jervis Tetch because I:

  • have zero social skills.
  • have no/very few friends in my life and never did master that whole ‘friendship’ thing; I never got invited to parties as a kid.
  • think Alice In Wonderland is the shit. Like, literally the best.
  • collect AIW stuff like it’s going out of fashion. Jewelry, clothes, stationary, three (3) copies of the books, crockery, figurines and toys, whatever… If it exists, I gotta have it (or gaze at it in longing, depending on my bank account at the time. Mostly the latter).
  • have a nasty, envious, jealous streak (though I am aroace, so that’s one big difference between us).
  • own a lot of hats - including a top hat.
  • gotta have tea/coffee. Even in midsummer and/or at night.
  • really want hats to come back into fashion, preferably yesterday.
  • have a dream clothing style that’s 100+ years out of date.
  • express myself with other people’s words.
  • would rather daydream than face my problems.
  • blame others for the bad things in my life.
  • cry a lot.

I relate to Edward Nygma because I:

  • think that a lot of people are just plain stupid.
  • have self-esteem problems (though I have much less of an ego than Eddie - not that it’s exactly hard…)
  • am always making awful puns.
  • am motivated equally by spite and wanting attention.
  • really wants to impress people.
  • like riddles, puzzles, and crosswords (though I am pretty very bad at them. Curse the over-literal autism brain…)
  • paradoxically don’t know how to respond to positive attention.
  • would happily take revenge on people who wronged me.
  • am very sensitive to criticism.
  • will use gratuitous polysyllables and grandiose phraseology with scant justification and tenuous relevance to the actual subject, simply to show that I am smarty brain who can word real good.
  • think the worst thing to be thought of is ‘stupid’, or ‘ignorant’.
  • wouldn’t know a proportionate response if it bit me on the backside.
  • prefer others to do my hard, dirty work.
  • think you are wrong and will tell you why. At length.
  • can’t fight for shit.