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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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Side Effects of ghost powers

Hey all! I’m writing a DP fic called Side Effects exploring the physical and later mental/emotional impact of Danny initially getting his ghost powers. As an ICU stepdown nurse for 3 years, I wanted to view Danny’s accident through a slightly more realistic, medical lens.

Note: I had to fudge a good amount because Danny really should have fucking died and there’s no getting around that.

I do recommend you read the fic first before reading this as there’s some spoilers. Or if you don’t care you can read on. So! The two factors we are looking at regarding the accident are: ecto-contamination secondary to electrocution.

Electrocution

I was forced to downplay a lot of the severe symptoms of electrocution because, again, a bad enough shock will kill someone. My hand-wavey explanation is simply that the portal didn’t activate at a deadly voltage so he got a good shock but not enough to be fatal. I guess.

Muscle weakness/spasms: intermittent muscle spasms are common from shocks, muscles being activated by electricity and reacting to the lingering impulses. Danny’s is transient but quite annoying for a time. But his muscles are gonna be weak and achy af for days if not weeks after from the massive contractions caused by the shock and the after effects. Sensory issues: lots of things can cause nerve damage, including electrocution so Danny is experiencing some pretty severe neuropathy primarily manifesting with numbness and tingling throughout his body. His entire skin and peripheral nervous system got fried so while its mostly numb it’s also super sensitive for a bit of time causing massive pain and discomfort from your body tingling like a thousand bee stings. It’s worst in the hours after the accident but is something that never quite really goes back to normal both from the electrocution and his ghost half taking over and generally dulling his sense of touch.

Hearing/Vision loss: Like skin/nerves, your sensory organs in your eyes and ears would be affected by such a severe and allover electric shock. Danny has some blurred and occasionally double vision from his eyes not properly receiving/understanding input. Hearing loss is common following electricity given how delicate the inner ear is but I just give Danny some nasty tinnitus (ear ringing) for a bit. This inner ear problem also massively throws off his balance when he’s trying to move post accident. These factors are exacerbated by the ecto-contamination and mostly fade in the days following the accident before going away as his superhuman healing kicks in.

Heart Arrhythmia: an irregular heartbeat caused by the electrical impulses that control basal heartrate not coordinating they they should for a variety of reasons, in this case, massive electric shock. Danny would be somewhat aware of it, its not exactly painful exactly but you can just feel that your heart isn’t beating right. Secondary side effects are dizziness, chest pain, fatigue and shortness of breath. This resolves almost entirely when Danny stabilizes

Cognitive issues: Danny got his brains a little scrambled in addition to his molecules being rearranged. The first third of the story Danny is very clearly NOT thinking straight and Tucker/Sam should not have left him alone. Shocks can cause things like irrational emotional behaviors from hormone release along with memory loss and depression. He constantly waxes and wanes in mood and opinions on what to do in the story and never comes to a true decision that, damn lucky for him, worked out on its own.

Ecto-Contamination

Alright so Danny got massively shocked, sucks right but people live through that all the time. Ecto-contamination is more tricky (not only cause its made up and I had to think about what symptoms it would theoretically produce) but because the effects are more life threatening. It’s also irreversible, once he was contaminated it was only something that could be survived not cured.

So I theorized that Danny got shocked by the accident and was slowly dying of ecto-contamination and was pretty much clinically dead for a brief moment there, the death was enough for the large quantity of ectoplasm in him to immediately coalesce into a ghost (Phantom). So Danny was mostly dead but not quite, I’ve coded and brought back enough people to know it can be reversed somewhat. Danny becomes Phantom but the sudden stable formation of the ectoplasm into what its supposed to be, a ghost, caused his body to stop fighting the ectoplasm as a foreign invader and become part of the self. His core finished forming in his chest and his body started back up again, his ghost safely nestled in his once again living body as he slowly comes to grips with his actual death experience.

Nausea/Vomiting: I likened the idea of ecto-contamination to radiation poisoning, something that is essentially the antithesis to life. One of the first symptoms of radiation is n/v which is also why it’s one of the first overt symptoms Danny has. He was heavily electrocuted/irradiated and his body wants to expunge it all. As for the ectoplasm/blood he vomits, that’s the next section.

Gastrointestinal (GI) Bleed: So I was a little mean here. When one vomits up blood (or in this case ectoplasm/blood mix) it has to come from somewhere and a lot of the times it’s a GI Bleed. These are nasty, they need to be either cauterized or surgically repaired not to mention replenishing the blood lost. Fanon says that ectoplasm is at least mildly corrosive to humans so it is here, as it’s bonding to him, it’s literally eating him very slowly from the inside out which is causing a great deal of his internal pain. It’s not enough to be immediately life threatening but would kill him eventually. He developed some nasty bleeding ulcers in his stomach which let in blood and ectoplasm which were expunged. Danny’s core formed overnight and began healing the damage it had previously been causing but Dan is still gonna be vomiting excess blood/ectoplasm not to mention having black, tarry stools for at least a few days afterwards.

Hypothermia/Tremors: Hypothermia is when the body hits 95F/35C which Danny is just above at the start of the chapter. Danny initially starts shaking really bad (rigors) but as his body temperature cools further his shaking slows and eventually stops, a sure sign that the body is rapidly losing the fight to hypothermia and will likely die soon without immediate intervention. This is caused not only by the ectoplasm but his ice core shakily starting to form inside of him. Once he fully turns half ghost his hypothermia doesn’t change but it just no longer negatively affects him (I say Danny hovers naturally around 96-95F/35-33C getting much colder as Phantom at baseline. His body still can be damaged by going too cold but that’s a whole other post.)

Incoherency/Hallucinations: I mentioned in the electrocution section that Danny is more than a little addled and the contamination didn’t help in that regard. Not only is he not thinking clearly but he’s also getting a little delirious and seeing things. Common hallucinations I see are: someone in the room watching you, things crawling on the walls, creeping shadows, you’re in the wrong place. I think its a solid 50/50 as far as Danny straight up hallucinating but also becoming more aware of natural ectoplasm that hangs around in the atmosphere. (And before anyone asks, yes Clockwork did come and visit, Danny just doesn’t remember)

Pain: Being electrocuted, irradiated, being dissolved slowly on the inside is enough to cause massive amounts of pain. Danny is 14, he doesn’t understand true pain and probably underestimated how much it would hurt. Once it got bad, it was almost paralyzing so it got to the point where even when he wanted to call for help, he couldn’t move or think past the horrible pain of his every molecule slowly dying and rearranging itself.

Weakness/Fatigue: I don’t really have anything much to add for this section that hasn’t been said in the others. Just the combination of all of the above meant Danny is so incredibly weak and fatigued, this will be problematic in the days and weeks following the accident as his body heals from the stress put on it. Poor boy was probably just getting past the worst of his symptoms by the time of the Lunch lady attack one month in.

Ghost instinct: Going off the medical rant for a minute to go into another aspect of the contamination present in the story, the idea of ectoplasm adding inherent ghostiness to Danny. Its common fanon that all ghosts (through ectoplasm) have their own unique code and language that is just omnipresent and instinctive. Such a massive, body altering dose of ectoplasm saw those things start to leech into Danny even before he became half ghost. The biggest is his fear of being seen, majority of ghosts are completely invisible and don’t want to be seen by the living. As Danny’s suffering and literally dying, he can’t bring himself to confess to his loved ones for very understandable reasons but also this ghostly instinct in the back of his head telling him to hide and get away. Other instincts are a strong attraction to the portal/Ghost Zone, lowkey being able to sense living people around him and a bit of an emotional dampener when Phantom.

#danny phantom #danny phantom meta #danny not only got his skinny ass electrocuted #but also the ghost equivalent of radiation poisoning #kid is lucky af he survived #this fic took so long to write bc!!! I kept adding in more symptoms and details #and I just do not have enough words to convey how horrible Danny would have felt at the height of his contamination #poor baby #he's a little better next chapter

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librarianandguardian · 4 years

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Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

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SH - John Watson x Reader - Better Late Than Never - Words: 2,679

A/N: This was the prompt: Reader went to med school with John, she liked him but never told him so. John gets deployed and they lose contact. A few years later they meet again because of a case.

"C'mon, Y/N," John laughed. "If you don't study for the test tomorrow, I won't give you the ice cream I bought!"

"Is it Death By Chocolate?" You replied, raising your head only slightly from it's spot on the floor.

"Maybe," He replied with a smirk. The two of you were in your dorm, trying to study for the quarter finals. You were in your 6th and final year of med school. You'd met about halfway through your 2nd year and had instantly become close friends. Small displays of affection were normal between the two of you, the type that best friends would share without giving a second thought. John didn't have a clue, but you had developed quite the crush on him. You never told him, though, for fear of messing up the one good friendship you had.

"John!" You groaned, dramatically sprawling out further on the carpet. "I think my brain has died." You had been trying to remember everything you'd studied and were coming up blank.

"Hm, I'm studying to be a doctor, not a coroner, but I would say time of death was somewhere between 6 years ago and now," He teased, leaning over you from his nearby perch on your futon. Pretending to be mad, you threw your foot up and kicked his leg.

"You git!" You exclaimed with a grin.

"Oi!" He replied, dramatically tumbling to the floor next to you. You both lost yourselves in a fit of giggles. You stopped laughing and just stared at him when your brain caught up with your eyes and you had one of your "moments". He looked so happy lying there next to you, laughing his head off. His hair was a mess, his jumper had gotten abit twisted and was creeping up his torso, and his eyes were bright with tears of laughter. "You ok, Y/N?" He asked when he noticed you had stopped laughing.

"Yeah, just thinking," You replied quickly.

"Ok, as long as it's nothing serious," He said. "Really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me. You've been zoning out more often recently so," He looked away, a bit embarrassed. "I was worried."

"I'm fine, John," You replied, not having the guts to tell him what was really on your mind.

About a year later, only 3 months after graduation, John called you. You still kept in touch, although you lived in different cities now, and your feelings hadn't changed. John had dated a few different girls but nothing ever worked out. You, though? You had gone on one date but left halfway through when the guy wouldn't shut up about himself and asked if you were splitting the check. John had told you he had applied at a small clinic near his apartment so you assumed his call was to update you on that. "Hey!" You said, picking up immediately.

"Uh, hey, Y/N," He said, sounding fairly upset. "Look, I," He sighed. "You remember that I enlisted a few months ago?"

"Yes," You replied, a lump forming in your throat.

"I've just gotten my deployment letter. They're sending me to Afghanistan. I leave this Friday." Silent tears streamed down your face and you found yourself unable to reply. "Y/N? Are you still there?" He asked.

"Yeah," You choked out. "Yeah, I'm still here, John. I, well, I guess I should wish you well then." You pinched the bridge of your nose and breathed deeply, trying to get ahold of yourself.

"Look, I know you're not a fan of the military but can't you at least congratulate me? This is something I wanted after all."

"Is it? Is it really?" You nearly yelled. "You didn't sound all that cheery two minutes ago when I picked up the phone! Besides, how could I congratulate you when all I can see is you getting blown to bits out there!"

"Sorry," He replied immediately. "That, that wasn't fair of me to ask." You both were silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "I'll write."

"Not with that handwriting you won't, " You replied, falling back into your regular banter.

"I'll try to make it legible for you," He promised. You nodded, though he couldn't see you, and started crying again.

"Alright," You said. "Can I drive over Friday and see you off?"

"Best not," He said. "I think it's better for both of us, yeah?" You reluctantly agreed. The two of you chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Shaking off the foreboding feeling that had settled on you, you continued with your day and started planning your first letter to him.

The first few weeks went well, his letters arriving regularly on Friday's without fail. Then one week it came on Monday instead, the next on Wednesday, and soon two weeks passed without a letter. When you finally received it, he said that they had gotten to a point where it was getting harder and harder to safely send a receive mail. He asked for you to stop all letters and promised to find you again when, or if, he got home. That night you wrote him one final letter but, of course, never sent it. You were determined to move on with life now but you promised yourself to never forget him.

"Good morning, Molly," You said walking into the hospital with her. You'd moved to London and gotten a job at St. Bart's, working in the outpatient clinic. A few weeks after starting there, you'd met Molly while on break. You exchanged numbers and started meeting in the cafeteria if you both had breaks at the same time. In time you met Sherlock. What an experience that had been. He immediately deduced which department you worked in, how long you'd been there, where you went to college, when you went to college and he even figured out that you'd been in love with someone in uni and never got over them. Needless to say, you were impressed. Ever since then he texted you occasionally for confirmation on medical related hypotheses.

"Good morning, Y/N," Molly replied.

"Have you heard from Sherlock recently? I haven't gotten any texts from him in the past few weeks." Molly chuckled and nodded.

"I've heard from him. He has a new flatmate. A doctor too!"

"Wow!" You replied. "Good for him! Let me know next time he comes by so I can meet him. I'd like to know who my replacement is," You teased. Molly giggled and you continued chatting as you walked over to the elevator. As the doors were about to close, you heard someone yell.

"Hold the lift!" You slammed the open doors button and Sherlock ran in. He nodded at you and you let go of the button. The doors started to slide closed again when another person called out.

"Sherlock!" You froze hearing that voice. You tried to get the doors in time but missed.

"Y/N?" Molly asked, worriedly. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost!" You nodded and leaned on the wall, trying to get yourself together. You decided to ride up to Molly's floor and see if Sherlock's friend came up on the next lift. Sherlock kept staring at you, confused, while you sat there waiting. A few minutes later, he came storming in the door.

"Sherlock! What were you thinking? Why didn't you hold the lift for me? I had to wait for the next one which happened to-"

"John," You gasped, amazed that it actually was him standing in front of you. "John!" You exclaimed, jumping up and running over.

"Y/N!" He replied, a grin spreading on his face. His smile faltered quickly though. "I," He said. "I need to be going. I forgot I had an appointment. Yeah. That's it. I'll see you at the flat, Sherlock." John quickly limped out the door and off to the elevator.

"He's the one, isn't he?" Sherlock said after a few moments. You nodded sadly.

"Why'd he run off like that?" You asked.

"Well it's obvious he didn't have an appointment. That leaves two possible reasons for his lying. One he could be-"

"Oh shut up, Sherlock!" You cried. "I know why he left. I-" You cut yourself off, choking back a sob. "Just sod it all! I need to go to work. I'll see you at lunch, Molly." You ran off, down the hall and to the elevator.

"Molly, I know that look in your eyes," Sherlock said once you'd left. "What are you planning?"

"The perfect set up. Now help me-"

"Molly," Sherlock interrupted her. "I may not understand a lot of things related to the topic of human relationships but I can tell you this, if either of us were to get involved, we may be maimed." Molly nodded in agreement.

Weeks went by and you worked harder than ever, taking extra shifts whenever you could. Your boss finally told you to take a week off to recharge. After much arguing, you relented and headed home for a week. Being alone all day, however, left your mind wandering. Thinking back to what might have been. To occupy your time, you decided to catch up with one of your good friends who lived nearby. You hadn't had the chance to hang out in some weeks but you texted each other every day. When you didn't hear from her yesterday, you worried but figured she probably was just tired. "Maybe she'll have some good advice for me," You told yourself. Knocking at her door, you checked your phone again to see if she had replied yet. Now you were really worried. You grabbed your spare key to her apartment and went in.

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, answering his phone.

"Sherlock, it-it's Y/N. Can you," You paused, taking a shaky breath. "Can you come down here please? I need your help. Lestrade's already on his way."

"On my way," He replied, grabbing his coat and scarf. "What happened?" As you explained to him everything, he grabbed John's coat and tossed it to him. John was mildly confused of course, but went along.

"I went in and found her in the bathroom," You told him. "I'm probably missing something obvious. I'm sorry," You cried.

"No, you're doing fine," Sherlock said genuinely. John looked at him surprised as they got into the cab, still not aware of who was on the other end of the call. "We'll be there in 7 minutes."

"We?" You asked. But Sherlock hung up before he answered.

"Y/N?" Greg said, coming up behind you. "I hate to say this but, we're going to need a statement. Do you want to wait till Sherlock gets here?"

"No, it's alright. Let's get it over with." A few minutes later, you'd told Greg everything you knew and he'd gone inside with the others to investigate. A cab pulled up and Sherlock rushed out. "Sherlock!" You exclaimed running up to him. As you approached, you saw another person getting out of the cab. "Why did you bring him?" You hissed.

"He's my assistant, flatmate and, if I have deduced correctly, a friend of both of us," Sherlock said.

"Look, that was years ago, I don't even know if-" You started whisper-yelling. You got cut off though when John walked up. You noticed he was limping again.

"John," Sherlock said. "I believe you're acquainted with Y/N. You're much better with people than I am," He stated briefly before going into the apartment.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," John said once Sherlock left. You nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench before your legs gave way from exhaustion.

"She was a good friend of mine. I don't know what could have happened." John was quiet as he sat down next to you.

"Sherlock will figure it out. If anyone can, it's him," He finally said.

"That is for certain," You replied with a dry chuckle. "So how did you meet Sherlock?"

"Oh, well, you remember Mike Stamford?"

"From uni? Yeah, I remember him."

"Well, he introduced me to Sherlock. We were both in need of a flatmate and he matched us up." John paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "That sounds much too much like a bad dating ad. Mike got us together."

"Nope, that's worse," You replied chuckling.

"You understand."

"I think so," You finally replied. "So," You paused. You were so desperate to ask him more but you weren't sure if this was the best time. "Oh, well, nevermind. Glad that worked out." You quieted again, staring off down the street. John looked at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Right, yes. So, what have you been up to?"

"Work. I got a job at St. Bart's about 2 years ago. That's how I met Molly and therefore Sherlock." You were silent for a moment before adding one more thing. "I've missed you, John."

"I've missed you too," He admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't write or call when I got back. I-" He sighed and absently rubbed at his leg. "I couldn't. I was scared, if I'm being honest."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know we got sent into a very dangerous area. That's why I had to stop writing to begin with. But then, well, I got shot."

"Your leg?" You asked since he had been limping and rubbing at it.

"Ah, shoulder actually. The limp is psychosomatic. It comes and goes when I'm particularly worried or upset."

"Oh, I'm sorry," You said, not completely sure of what to say.

"I've been back in London for about a year. I looked you up actually. I found out you were working at Bart's. That's why I ran into Mike that day. I was in a park nearby, trying to work up the nerve to go and see you."

"Why didn't you?" You asked. He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's ok. I should be honest." He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "I was afraid of what you'd think of me. I didn't come back as some 'war hero'. I'm a washed up medic who can't even walk correctly."

"It's psychosomatic, right?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Sherlock says so."

Well then, you have nothing to fear." He looked at you questioningly. "You know I never cared about the military so I could honestly care less if you came back known as some 'war hero' or not. You're not washed up, just look at you! Out here solving mysteries with the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes! And you can too walk right! You're just too scared to."

"I'm not so sure-" You interrupted him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away with a giggle you got up and ran a few feet away.

"You'll have to come here to get another!"

"Oh, you devil," He grinned. He got up and walked over to you quickly, picking you up, spinning you around and giving you another kiss. You laughed happily and leaned on his shoulder.

"See? You did just fine!"

"I suppose I did, didn't I?" He chuckled.

"Oh, John," You giggled. "I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, John Watson." He smiled from ear to ear.

"I love you too, Y/N L/N. But a crime scene isn't really the best place to do this at."

"Why not? We giggle at murders all the time?" Sherlock suddenly butted in.

"How long have you been standing there?" John yelled.

"Well," Greg suddenly said, a few feet away and holding up his phone. "This video is already 4 minutes long, so," He trailed off.

"John," You said, not taking your eyes off the two other men.

"Yes, love?" He asked as you reached for his hand.

"Let's get 'em." You then spent the rest of the afternoon chasing Sherlock and Greg around the neighborhood, enjoying their girly shrieks, until Mycroft showed up and put a stop to it. Later that evening, you and John were enjoying some Chinese takeaway back at your apartment.

"I really can't apologize enough for leaving you in the dark, Y/N," John said. "I should have written," He chided himself.

"It's alright, John," You assured him. "Actually, you just reminded me of something. Wait here a moment." You ran off to your room and pulled an envelope out of a small box in your desk. You returned to the living room and held it out to John. "This is for you. It was my last letter but," You paused, blushing lightly. "I never mailed it."

My Dear Captain Watson,

I hope you're doing well. I hope you're staying safe and helping as many as you can. I hope -

Oh what am I writing. John, there's something you should know and I wish I could tell you in person but better now than never I suppose.

I love you.

There. Feel free to never write me back again or return this with a 'Dear John' letter. Well, you know what I mean. I wish I could have said it better or sooner but I was scared to lose your friendship. Now I'm more scared of actually losing you.

John, please return safely. Even if we never speak again. The world should not be without John Watson.

All my love,

Y/N

"Y/N," John said, tears in his eyes after reading your letter. "Why didn't you send it?"

"Well, you had asked me not to write anymore since it was dangerous and," You paused, shaking your head sadly. "I chickened out again."

"Well, I guess what they say is true then." You looked at him quizzically as he pulled you close to him and leaned his forehead on yours. "Better late than never."

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

#sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson x reader #john watson #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic

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tra-sh · 4 years

Text

Just a Touch (Din Djarin)

Request from Anon: “First i just wanna say I really love your writing! If you’re still taking requests, Could I ask for one with the mandalorian? Like touch-starved din maybe smut? Thanks!"

We simp for Din Djarin in this household. I might make two parts for this if that's alright!

Part 2 Here!

Being in a relationship with a Mandalorian was unheard of, to say the least. Their culture was famous for restraining from unnecessary touches and hiding their bodies from the world's prying eyes. Knowing this, it never ceased to amaze you how much you truly loved the Mandalorian that sat before you. And by some Maker's miracle, he loved you too.

You and Din had never established your relationship with words. He was a man of very few, and you were in no rush to stake your claim on him. You knew that this was unfamiliar territory for him and the last thing you wanted to do was rush him into anything. You took your time and never pushed his boundaries, much to the man's pleasant surprise. Din knew you to be exceedingly patient. You never touched him unless he initiated it (which was only in times of need) and when you prepared meals you would smile and leave his plate in the cockpit as if it were completely normal that he ate in solitude.

Din was thankful for you, but he couldn't help the guilt that bled into his thoughts. Surely, he was holding you back from something better? You deserved only the best and he was convinced this was something he couldn't give you.

You, on the other hand, were more than content with this life. You didn't need Din to offer you the world or recite pretty words to make you feel loved. You saw it in his actions. You knew he loved you when he took a blaster shot to the shoulder in your stead, and when he told you his true name late one night while flying. You knew more than anyone that this was his love language and you were happy just knowing that he returned your feelings.

Din, however, was not.

His breaking point had come one day on Lah’mu, where he'd taken you and the child to relax for a bit. He'd told you it was to secure an idea of potential hiding places should trouble strike again, but you knew him better by now. The three of you were exploring the farming planet and taking in the lush flora and wildlife. Din would never say it out loud, but he adored the look of awe that settled on your features. The way you held the child to your chest and bounced him absentmindedly as you walked-- Din couldn't help but entertain the thought that the three of you looked like a family. Something he never knew he wanted until you came into his life. You smile down at the child while you walk, feigning interest as he prattles off incoherent words to you. You 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at his babbling (which he greatly appreciated because usually, NO ONE listened to him) and occasionally respond with "Is that so?" or "And then what?"

Din allows the barest hint of a smile to ghost over his lips as he watches you interact with the kid. His eyes trail to the ground and he notices a patch of mud left over from the previous night's rainfall. Before the Mandalorian could utter a warning, your boot catches in the slippery clay. You squeal as you fall backward and clutch the child to your chest, hoping to cushion his fall. You're pleasantly surprised, however, when a pair of leather gloves catch your arms and steady you against a broad chest. You turn to say your thanks when you're unceremoniously shoved away. You stumble a bit but manage to catch yourself before you and the giggling baby in your arms faceplant into the mud. You turn to look at Din, and he freezes. He hadn't meant to-- gods knew he'd wanted to hold you like that for millennia-- but he'd pushed you away on instinct. He tries to drum up an excuse or mutter a 'sorry', but the hurt look on your face makes his apology die on his tongue. He'd never seen you look so distressed.

You quickly try to save face and offer Din a small smile. You hadn't meant to let that slip, but something about his quickness to get you off of him didn't sit right in your stomach. But you knew that at the end of the day it wasn't because of you. This was how he was raised; this was who he was. And you'd accepted that a long time ago. "Sorry, Din," you apologize quietly. "I should have been looking where I was going." And with that, you turned away and continued your walk.

Din watched you leave with a pained expression under his beskar helmet. He hated being the cause of your discomfort. He hated knowing that he was the cause of the pain that flashed across your face. And he hated himself for making you think you had to hide your feelings. He knew something had to change.

***

The first time Din had sought out your touch, it was so small that you'd thought it was an accident.

You had just put the child to bed and turned around to find Din standing there beside the ladder. "Oh, Hey," you greet, keeping your voice low as to not wake the sleeping kid. You see his helmet tilt slightly, nodding in response. You glance over your shoulder to the child and smile at his peaceful state. One of his ears twitches as if sensing your stare. You turn back to Din, who remains perfectly still.

"I'm going to make dinner now. I'll leave yours on your chair?" Another wordless nod.

You hum quietly as you move to side-step around the Mandalorian and make your way up the ladder. Just as you go to leave, you feel the slightest brush of leather against your hand. Your head snaps up and you look at Din in shock. He's not facing you; his gaze is trained on the child. You open your mouth to ask him if he'd meant to do that, but you quickly close it. You didn't want to scare him off. You stand rigid at the base of the ladder, afraid to move. You felt as though you were coaxing a turtle from its shell; patiently waiting to see the next move. The leather-clad fingers timidly brushed over your palm as if testing out the new territory. Your chest swells with anticipation and you watch with bated breath as he almost-- almost-- holds your hand. But as quickly as the touch began, it ends when Din walks over to the child's pram. Your heart is pounding and you can't help the contagious smile that threatens to overtake your features. You turn back to the ladder and make your way up, silently reveling in the knowledge of the touch.

***

The next few times Din touched you, they weren't so fleeting.

He'd brushed his hand to yours when you passed each other in the hallway, his fingers lingering to brush the back of your hand ever so gently before he would eventually turn away and stalk off. You'd grown accustomed to these little moments and they were quickly becoming treasured memories in your mind. It felt silly being so elated with these barely-there grazes, but you knew how much they meant to Din. He was pushing his own boundaries and stepping out of his comfort zone for you.

After he'd let down his walls with the first touch, he slowly began to crave more. Although your hands only came in contact with his gloves, he could just imagine how your skin would feel against his. How soft it would feel when your thumb rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. He was delving into dangerous territory by letting you touch him now; he almost felt guilty for enjoying it as much as he did. Every graze of your fingers left a burning trail in it’s wake-- and Din desperately wanted to feel more. It was almost drugging, the feel of your touch. He had been on his own for so long, with only the other Mandalorians and the occasional bounty as his human-- or alien-- interaction. He'd never craved contact with anyone the way he did with you. Perhaps it was because of this that he began to allow you to venture further. You'd lace your fingers together with his, silently holding his hand as you played with the child. At first, he wasn't sure how to react. His muscles were tense against yours and he seemed to freeze where he stood. But after some time, you felt him relax in your hold. He'd even begun to hold your hand back, which made your heart flutter in your chest.

***

Din was positive you were doing this on purpose. Because if you weren't, you surely were the worst kind of tease.

He'd left the Razor Crest to buy some food and medical supplies to stock up for the next bounty hunt to Tatooine. But on his way to the market, he'd run into some trouble with a group of Storm Troopers. He'd managed to escape with only a few scratches here and there, but the minute he told you what happened you'd gone into a frenzy. You had insisted on checking him for potential wounds and wouldn't take no for an answer.

That was how Din ended up with you hovering over him as he sat on the metal bench in the downstairs of the Crest, across from the bed. He had no idea, however, how the two of you got in this particular position.

Your knee sat on the metal bench between his thighs as you do your best to check for wounds without removing any beskar. Your hands run along the curves and dips of his body and you occasionally glance up to see if he would wince or give off a sign of injury. So far he hadn't so much as moved. Din wondered momentarily if he was dreaming. He'd taken a blaster shot to the helmet that rattled him a bit-- perhaps he was really unconscious on the side of the road somewhere. How else would he explain this? The most surprising part for the Mandalorian was the fact that he allowed you to touch him like this. Your hands run over the back of his neck, brushing over a sliver of exposed skin between his shirt and the helmet. Din's breath catches in his throat and his hands tighten their grip on the edge of the bench. You're quick to notice this and frown. "Are you hurt there?" You ask carefully. Din isn't sure how to respond. No, I'm not injured. I'm just aroused by you barely touching my neck. He definitely couldn't say that. He could just push your hands off of him and leave the room. He should stop you. He really should.

He also really doesn't want to.

Din realizes you're still waiting for a response and tries to find his voice. "...Yes."

He was screwed.

You let out a soft gasp and begin to run your fingers over the 'afflicted' area, searching for any physical wound to fix. Din has to bite back a groan as your nails lightly ghost over his neck. "I have bacta spray here somewhere," you murmur under your breath, turning to reach one hand into the bag of medical supplies that sits on the far end of the bench. His neck feels cold at the sudden loss of your hand and he fights the urge to lean into your remaining touch. The way you caressed him tenderly, lovingly, it made something in his chest ache. He didn't want you to stop.

You let out a victorious 'aha' as you pull a small silver container from the contents of the bag. You turn back to the Mandalorian and offer him an apologetic look. "I need you to bend your head for me," you instruct. He goes limp in your grasp, allowing you to pull him gently forward and bend his head close to your chest. You lean forward to peer over his shoulder and spray the bacta on his exposed skin. Din's mind goes blank as your chest fills his vision. He'd never been this close to another person before and certainly not in an intimate manner. "Does that feel better?" Your voice breaks him from his dizzying trance and you pull back to gaze down into his visor.

"Yes," Din rasps out. His voice betrays him as the word leaves his lips in a breathless groan. If you notice the sudden change, you don't mention it. You smile, seemingly pleased with your work. "I know this is probably uncomfortable for you," you say quietly. "I'm almost done, I promise."

Please, Din thinks, don't stop. It's almost embarrassing how much this is turning him on. He's one fleeting touch away from losing control and bucking his hips against your knee just to feel relief.

Your hands ghost over his helmet, noting the blackened outline of a blaster shot behind his left ear. "You were shot?" It's not as much of a question as it is an accusation. He told you he was fine and had no injuries. He didn't tell you he got shot. Din can't bring himself to speak after the earlier incident and instead remains quiet. He knew you wouldn't even dream of removing his helmet-- you held too much respect for the Mandalorians. He didn't stop you as your hands traveled over the beskar surface, pausing to cup his face in your hands. You stay like that for a moment and absentmindedly brush your thumbs over the cool surface. A tiny smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you lose your train of thought, content to stay there for the remainder of the day staring lovingly into the dark visor.

"Well, thank you for being such a good patient," you joke lightly, breaking the silence. You feel a small burst of confidence and lean forward to press a gentle kiss where his forehead should be. You pull back and bite your lip, hoping that you didn’t go too far.

Din is frozen in place. All he can do is pray to the Maker that you wouldn't look down. It was just a kiss. One small kiss to his helmet. His body sits rigidly on the cool metal as he tries to push all of the indecent thoughts from his head. Thoughts of you, naked and writhing beneath him. Thoughts of kissing you deeply and trailing hot kisses down the soft skin of your abdomen.

You begin to squirm uncomfortably when Din doesn't move at all. Was that too much? Maker, you needed to apologize before he never touched you again. You'd just barely gotten him to hold your hand-- of course a kiss would be too bold.

You push off the bench and offer him an apologetic gaze, grabbing the bag of supplies. "I'm sorry," you murmur quietly. "I shouldn't have pushed it." You excuse yourself from the room and hurry down the narrow hall to put the bag back in its destined locker.

Din watches you leave in frustration, letting out a strangled groan as his head falls back to hit the wall with a soft 'thud'. He needed to do something about this-- fast.

#mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian drabbles #din djarin drabble #din djarin #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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thedannyphantomcookbook · 3 years

Text

The Phantom Origins

Okay, so I know probably a bunch of people have already done this, but I wanted to rewrite Danny Phantom, from just before he got his powers to maybe when he tells his parents.

I’m tired of waiting for a reboot that may never come, so here is what I picture the reboot would look like.

I’ve always thought it would be darker and more horrific, that the ghosts he fights are more monstrous and demonic.

That there would be a little bit more of a medical concern for Danny’s humanity being affected by his ghost half. Is he becoming more ghost like? Is he gradually getting sicker and sicker, and his ghost DNA ravages through his body like cancer?

Would Vlad be not only a sexist, creepy, abusive old man, but contains a thirst for deception and power that he poses a real, apocalyptic threat on Earth and the ghost zone?

Are ghosts actually the spirits of the dead? Or are they a different breed of human that lives in a completely separate dimension, that’s is layered and hidden within ours?

What about Danny’s mental health. He has to keep this big secret from his parents because he absolutely FEARS what would happen if they found it to the point he’s scared they wouldn’t believe he was their son and try to kill him as a result, or keep him hostage in the basement, slowly torturing him and dissecting him until he’s dead? What would the world think of him? A prophet? A demon? Would they accuse his parents for experimenting on their own children? He would have so much fear and anxiety that he’d have to be on edge all the time, falling into depression, panic attacks - not to mention the PTSD he’d get from it all while battle nightmarish monsters and the hanging question over his head of what he is now.

These are just SOME of the questions I’ve had that Butch Hartman will never answer. He set up such a great plot and characters but carried it out pretty poorly over the show (which may or may not be his fault since they wanted to keep it kid friendly.)

I hope to get into the deep and dark and nitty gritty details of Danny Phantom we’ve imagined but never get to see. I wrote the first chapter below, and I plan to write much more. :)

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Follow me over at Ao3

Summary:

Dr. Madelyn Fenton and her husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, have just built the world's first portal to the Ghost Zone - an alternate dimension where undead linger for all eternity. The only problem is no one believes in what they are doing. The townspeople call them the Fenton Freaks and the rejection letters from the National Science Foundation are piling up. Not even their own children can tolerate their ghost obsession. Their 14 year old son, Danny, does what he can to separate himself from his parents. Mocked by his peers and judged by his teachers, he keeps his head down and stays out of the spotlight.

It comes as no surprise to Danny when his parents' machine fails to work on the first test run. Discouraged, they leave empty handed for the weekend to go to the Ghost Hunter's Expo, where they were expected to present their portal during their panel. As soon as his parents leave, Danny invites his friends over to give a tour of yet another one of his parents' failed experiments. When he gets dared to walk inside the machine, he triggers something that turns it back on, and for the first time ever, his parents have an invention that works. But that's the least of the surprises when Danny emerges from the portal himself...

To Whom It May Concern,

To the esteemed members of the National Science Foundation, myself, Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD., and my husband, Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD., write to you today to consider us for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. Our combined decades worth of research within paranormal scientific research fields have led us to believe that the “ghost” entities that haunt our very Earth, could in fact be the missing link to creating new technology, curing human illnesses, and prolonging human life on Earth.

The term “ghosts” is defined as a religious or spiritual being, or the hypothetical soul of the human body, separated from physical forms, usually that of a person recently deceased. Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have a different theory about the “ghostly” entities that visit our Earth. We have sufficient evidence to prove that ghosts are in fact not the spirits of the dead, but an entirely new species of the human race. We believe they exist in an alternate dimension - a separate plane of existence that is not unlike ours. Recent developments have also shown the possibility of dimensional travel - we believe ghosts are able to pass through into our plane of existence for a temporary amount of time. Through our rigorous research, construction, and experimentation, Dr. Jackson Fenton and myself have created what would be a “portal” to this plane of existence, to the “Ghost Zone.” By exploring and studying the ghost zone, we could collect a limitless amount of research and data that could be used to benefit humanity for the rest of our existence.

We have provided within our application our twenty years of research and development, along with video recordings of our experiments as evidence of our work in progress, as we humbly request your consideration for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award.

Sincerely,

Dr. Madelyn Fenton, PhD. in Quantum Physics and Paranormal Studies

Dr. Jackson Fenton, PhD. in Theoretical Science and Paranormal Studies

From the Grants and Admissions Office of the National Science Foundation

To Dr. Madelyn Fenton and Dr. Jackson Fenton,

Thank you for your interest in applying for the New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award. The New Exploratory Scientific Research Grant Award (NESRGA) is an esteemed scholarship opportunity that looks to provide funding for ground-breaking scientific research to scientists working within small and local laboratories. After carefully reviewing your application and research, we have come to the regretful decision to decline your request to receive the NESRGA.

We unfortunately could not approve your request due to the following issues:

Insufficient or lack thereof evidence or proof of scientific research of ghostly entities and/or undiscovered species, the “Ghost Zone” dimension in which these entities exist, or possible travel to said “Ghost Zone.”

Insufficient of lack thereof peer review research and laboratory data.

Paranormal entities and alternative dimensional research is not recognized under the National Science Foundation as factual scientific work.

We are thrilled to hear that you share such enthusiasm, passion, and ambition in the pursuit of scientific exploration, research and development. You are a part of a wonderful community, and through your tireless efforts, you will help bring our Earth into the future.

We welcome you to apply for the NESRGA again next year.

Sincerely,

Barbara Keaton,

Director of Grants and Admissions

National Science Foundation

GHOST HUNTERS EXPO - THIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND

To Drs. Maddie and Jack Fenton,

We are excited to have you return to speak at the Ghost Hunters Expo this coming labor day weekend. We have reviewed your Ghost Zone Theory and we anticipate your presentation of your research.

Please note: due to new regulations we cannot allow the following into the convention center:

Ecto-infused food, inanimate objects, or animal mutations of any kind.

Alarm or defense systems that release a form of knock out gas, ectoplasmic goo, ectoplasmic foam, spoiled meats, or live rodents. All alarms and defense systems must be turned off while inside the convention center.

Samplings or gifts of homemade cookies or other food, beverages, or gifts to bribe the judges.

Disclosed weapons that are not a part of your presentation and/or not approved by the convention prior (we will have metal detections at all entry points of the convention hall)

Asking for audience volunteers unless approved by us prior your scheduled presentation time.

Ghost claims targeted towards convention guests, judges, or other presenters.

All presentations and inventions must have been tested and approved by a judge prior to your presentation time (i.e. no last minute or surprise inventions).

Fighting or displays of physical aggression.

Destruction of convention hall equipment, the building’s foundation itself, or other presenters equipment and or inventions.

We thank you in advance for your compliance and full understanding of the new regulations.

We look forward to seeing you!

Best,

Trevor Martin

Ghost Hunters Expo Coordinator

“Did you see this?” Jack Fenton asked, waving the notice from the Ghost Hunters Expo. He scoffed. “New regulations...I wonder who were the bimbos that made them enforce these rules.” He crumbled up the notice and threw it carelessly on the floor.

“How’s that portal coming, sweet cheeks?” he asked his wife.

Maddie Fenton was deep within a hexagon shaped chamber carved out of her laboratory converted basement wall. The interior was lined with a colorful array of wires and tiny blinking lights. At the end of the chamber, sheets of metal and hardware fanned in on itself. Maddie was kneeled on the floor, wrestling with a few cords.

“I’m just struggling to connect these last couple of wires,” she answered, pinching the two cords together. With a last bit of strain, the cords connected with a satisfying click.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she came out of the chamber. “Hopefully that will stabilize the gravitational pull of the Ghost Zone once we get the portal running.” She briefly thought back to a dark memory from their college days when their first Ghost Zone prototype had malfunctioned and the toxins from the Ghost Zone leaked out of the portal, resulting in displacing one of her lab partners for the remainder of their college career.

“We got it this time, baby,” Jack said confidently. “There is no way we could make the same mistake twice.”

Maddie sighed as she walked over to the control panel to record the ecto-readings. “I just wish we knew for certain what had gone wrong that day. All of this guess work is driving me crazy.” She picked up her notebook and briefly reviewed her meticulously hand written notes before adjusting some dials.

“Okay,” she huffed, satisfied. “I think we’re ready for a test run.”

Jack clapped his hands. “Excellent! I’ll go grab the kids!” He ran to the basement steps and shouted, “Jazzy-pants! Danny! Get down here!”

A few minutes later both of their teenage children shuffled down the basement steps.

“Is this gonna take long?” Danny asked, disinterestedly. “Tucker and I were in the middle of planning our next battlefield strategies for Doomed. There’s only a few days left of summer vacation and we still have so much planning to do if we want to beat the other online players and achieve the seven Keys of Destiny.”

“And I was in the middle of an important breakthrough in my self therapeutic psychology research,” their daughter, Jazz promptly stated. In her hands she clutched an open copy anxiety and phobias workbook. “Did you know that high functioning anxiety in adulthood is caused by childhood trauma from never feeling safe in your own home? This would explain so much about me and Danny -” she paused in her speech when she saw the machine her parents were working on.

“Oh, no.” She snapped her book shut and pinched the flesh between her eyes. “ Please do not tell me you called us down here to witness another one of your experiments. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Oh, Jazz, relax,” Maddie said, waving her off. “Those burn marks from the last ectoplasmic gun experiment healed eventually. And look!” She walked over to a closet in the back of the room and pulled out two polyester jumpsuits. “We made you both your own custom fitted, lab safe, jumpsuits!”

Jack appeared beside Maddie. “And we matched them with ours! Jazzy-pants, yours is teal to match your mother’s. And Danny, yours would have matched mine but the store didn’t have orange.” he held out a plain white jumpsuit with black gloves and boots.

“And I haven’t even shown you two the best parts!” he grabbed the jumpsuits from Maddie and spun them around. Crudely pressed onto the fabric of the jumpsuit was a cutout of Jack Fenton’s smiling face, emblazoned on the chest.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jack grinned.

Jazz was the first to respond. “Dad there is no way you’re going to get me to wear that,” she said while backing away and shaking her head. “How about Danny and I will just go upstairs and you can call us down after you’ve tested it? That way we’ll be safe and not have to wear those hideous jumpsuits.”

Danny silently agreed with her while struggling to conceal his own disgust at the suits. It was one thing to be forced to wear a jumpsuit like his parents but it was an entirely different level of lame to have to wear his father’s face across his chest. What if his parents insisted he wore it all the time, like they did? Involuntary images of him becoming the laughing stock at his new high school was surfacing in his mind, more than he already was for being the son of the city’s eccentric ghost hunting husband and wife team. He was already struggling to stay above the pathetic nerd social ring in his class. They’d have to create an entirely new category of nerd just for him if he wore that suit. The thought of it made him want to crawl away in a hole and be left there to die.

“Mom, Dad, I have to agree with Jazz,” Danny said. “The suits are kinda...lame.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Maddie dismissed. “These jumpsuits are the latest fashion that every ghost hunter wants.”

“And when we reveal these babies with my face on them, everyone will be scrambling for one. We’ll be rich!” Jack stated proudly.

Jazz snorted. “Um, I somehow doubt that. Look, we’ll just go back upstairs and you two can let us know when it’s safe, okay?” She looped a hand around Danny’s arm and started pulling him away.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jack clamped a hand on both of them and spun them back around. “You two are being given the chance to witness scientific history! And we are not going to let you pass up on this.” He tossed the jumpsuits to Jazz and Danny. They unwillingly caught them.

Jazz glowered at Danny. “If you take any photos and post them on the internet, I will kill you.”

Danny held out his suit reproachfully. His dad’s smiling face seemed to be laughing at him, like all of the students as Casper High will be if they ever found out about this.

“Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Jazz and Danny stood alongside their parents in their matching jumpsuits. Jazz stood with her arms crossed, silently fuming, her foot tapping impatiently. At her mother’s insistence, Jazz was forced to tuck in her long, red hair and wear the hair sealing head cover and thick, dark eye protection goggles that came with it. At equal height, Jazz and Maddie were identical in their suits.

At least Danny couldn’t match his dad. Jack’s suit was bright orange and about twenty sizes larger than Danny’s, due to his father’s obsession with Maddie’s homemade fudge and cookie inventions. Danny’s own white suit was slightly too large for him, and hung in odd places due to his skinny frame. He didn’t have to wear a hood and goggles like his sister either - another thankful shortage from the ghost hunter’s clothing warehouse. He picked at his dad’s pressed on face design on his chest as he waited for his parents to get the machine ready for its test run. His dad had tried ironing it on, but had done it poorly, so that with a bit of a tug, it was already beginning to peel off.

Jack and Maddie Fenton ran back and forth across the lab, double checking last minute calculations. Machines whirred and beeped around them, the hum of electricity warm in the stagnant air.

Danny had a good idea of how this was going to go. If this would be like any of their past experiments, it would fail miserably. The experiment would go haywire, probably spout ectoplasmic goo everywhere or accidentally giving ecto energy to the nearest food item. One year, their parents had tried making the Christmas Turkey in their newly invented Ultra-fast Instant Pot and instead infused it with demonic ghostly energy and reanimated it. Danny remembered hiding underneath the kitchen table as Jazz had to beat it back with a pastry roller, screaming for their parents.

The ghost zone portal was their most ambitious project yet. For most of Danny’s life, they had dinner table discussions, weighing mathematical equations and scientific chemical balances in hopes of being able to one day engineer the world’s first ghost zone portal. He was fairly surprised when he found out at the beginning of the summer that they were finally constructing it, and even more so when they claimed last night it was completed. They had been rushing to get it done in time to present it at the Ghost Hunters Expo this weekend.

He glanced at the table beside him looking at the pile of papers his dad had haphazardly stacked among the beakers and ghost weapons. Sitting on top of the stack was the rejection letter from the National Science Foundation.

“It means that they don’t think what they’re doing is science,” Jazz had interpreted for Danny after reading it when their parents’ back was turned. “And who could blame them? There is zero evidence supporting the existence of ghosts. It’s just superstition.”

That’s all it was. Superstition. And yet, his parents had at some point in their youth latched on to the idea that ghosts were more than a myth, and even though they’ve never actually seen one in person themselves, they were determined to prove ghosts were real. What amazed Danny the most is the amount of people who also believed in the same theory. In the years past when his parents had dragged him and Jazz to the Ghost Hunter’s Expo, the crowds always seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Scientists, hunters, enthusiasts, and even ghost cosplayers gathered under the same roof for a full weekend, exchanging theories, stories and footage of what they thought were ghosts. The most ridiculous rumor he had heard at the last ghost hunter’s convention was one of a young, blue haired female musician, who became an overnight sensation after one performance at a local carnival. She had also disappeared quite suddenly after the performance, which raised a lot of speculation. Ghost hunters claimed her unusually pale skin and hypnotic vocals were a part of her ghostly powers. Jazz had stated that it was simply because she was a successful female in the patriarchy they had to deem her as a ghost to explain it.

Danny didn’t want to say anything else after that.

“Jack,” Maddie called from across the room, typing away at a computer. “Did you remember to pour in the ecto-purifier?”

“On it, baby!” Jack cried while fumbling with a control panel. Danny watched as grabbed a can of diet cola, which sat next to the similar sized gray cylinder labeled “EP.”

“Uh, Dad?” Danny called. “I don’t think that’s the ecto-purifier.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked. He turned to look at the object in his hand and barked out a chuckle.

“Thanks, son! That was a close one.” He placed the can of diet cola down and picked up the correct cylinder. “Who knows what would have happened if we purified the toxic ghost energies with diet cola. Could you imagine?” He poured the bright green liquid into the appropriate chamber.

In the corner of his eye, Danny saw Jazz shake her head. “Idiot,” she whispered.

Jazz believed she was the only mature Fenton in the family. At some point during her high school career, she had decided it was up to her to convince her parents that ghosts were not real, and to force them to change their careers to something more normal or socially acceptable. She had tried to get them interested in just about any other scientific field she could think of, such as deep sea diving to discover creatures living on the ocean floor, to NASA’s space engineering program. When those didn’t work, she tried to build a case proving the psychological damage they were causing to her’s and Danny’s upbringing. Over the summer, when she wasn’t preparing herself for the SATs she’d have to take later that school year, she poured over every psychological book she could get her hands on from the library. No matter how many times she argued about the permanent damage her parents were inflicting on their amygdala by creating an unsafe environment for her and Danny to grow up in, their parents would say it’s all worth it for the sake of scientific advancement.

Danny tried desperately to stay out of their fights. Most days, he was too focused on trying to survive a day without being called “that ghost geek” by his peers, no matter how many times he told his classmates he didn’t believe in his parents’ work. Maybe it was because of his small, bony limbs that made it so easy for his classmates to mock him. Or the fact that his only two friends in the entire world were also considered a variety of nerd within the social climate. His best friend Tucker was a little too obsessed with the latest technology and his other friend, Samanatha - Sam for short - was the only school’s goth girl, who filled her entire personality and outlook with dark and depressing outfits and literature. In a weird way, it did make sense that the girl who loved to read about the dead, and the boy who loved technology, would want to be friends with the kid whose parents called themselves ghost scientists. Still, they were his best friends and he wouldn’t trade them for anyone else.

He had been telling them about the portal his parents were building all summer. Just like he was, his friends were also doubtful it would work. They deliberated about what the inventions would actually do. Tucker still brought up the time Danny’s parents were testing out an anti-ghost gravity spray, to temporarily make a ghost lose their flight ability. The morning they were testing it out, Danny had woken up in a hovering bed. It had shocked him so much, he fell off his bed and face-planted onto his bedroom floor, breaking his nose. At some point, Tucker and Sam started placing bets about the outcome.

“Maybe the portal will just blast a hole through the wall and you’ll send up in the Amity Park Sewer System,” Sam guessed last night after he told them his parents were getting ready for their first test.

“Bet you five bucks that Danny will lose all of his hair this time,” Tucker had joked.

He absentmindedly ran a hand through his exposed hair and briefly wished he had a head cover and goggles like Jazz. He couldn’t help but notice there was something different about his parents this time. They didn’t have the same, bubbly and excited energy they usually had when showing off a new invention. They seemed more focused this time. Even his dad’s goofy banter towards Maddie had taken a back seat as his dad frowned over the controls. It was weird to see his dad actually concentrating. Maybe it was the hundredth rejection letter they received from the National Science Foundation, or the pressure to present this weekend at the Expo, but it seemed like they were seriously trying to make this thing work. They did not want to fail.

“Okay everyone!” Maddie ran over and started waving her hands. “Backs up against the wall.”

Jazz sighed and turned to walk over to stand behind the boxed in yellow line, the “safe” spot in the lab. Danny thought a metal containment center with a viewing screen would have kept them safer, but supposedly his parents didn’t have time to build one. Danny followed his mother and sister.

“Almost…” Jack muttered at the controls, typing away. Suddenly there was a loud click that echoed off the basement walls. Machines roared to life and lights winked on. Inside the portal, the metal fans began to spin.

“YES!” Jack punched the air, triumphant.

“Jack!” Maddie called to her husband, gesturing towards the safe zone. He jogged over and squeezed himself in between his two kids.

“This is it!” he shouted over the noise, which was gradually becoming deafening.

All around the room, machines and computers turned on. Attached beakers and graduated cylinders filled up with green, bubbling liquid. A wall lined with dialers bounced up and down. Puffs of smoke expelled out of exhaust pipes. The portal itself began to crackle with electricity, its interior fans spinning faster and faster until it started emitting a bright green glow. The pressure in the room changed, popping Danny’s ears. He felt the tips of his hair begin to rise with the electric waves.

The whirring of the fans inside the machine began to ring out a high pitch squeal as the machine glowed brighter, and brighter, blinding Danny’s naked eyes. He squinted and held out a hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers. The air around them grew warm and staticky. His father clamped a hand tightly on Danny’s shoulder, as if to hold him back from running away.

It was working. Danny couldn’t believe it. Not once in all of their years of inventing ghost machines and hunting equipment, they may have actually been able to build something that worked like they wanted it to.

What would this mean? That ghosts actually existed? That his parents were not the crackpot fools the town took them for? And if they did exist, there was the one question that no one has been able to answer.

Were ghosts dangerous?

He looked up at Jazz. Her expression was unreadable through the head covering. He looked at his parents, wild and furious excitement in their eyes.

Then, when it seemed like Danny’s ears couldn’t take much more of the screeching noise, a BOOM exploded from the portal. Light poured out of the machine and flooded the room. Danny yelped and turned away. Jack stepped in front of his family and hid them with his massive torso from the explosion. Then, very suddenly, the room went dark. Every light and machine that had been just buzzing with life, died. Danny’s hearing rang in the abrupt silence.

“What the heck?” Jack was the first to say something.

“I got a flashlight, hang on,” Maddie said next. Danny heard her fumbling around her utility belt and a small light winked on. She shined it around the room. Curls of smoke rose up from the machines. The glow from the ecto-purifier had also faded.

“I don’t understand,” Maddie said, dumbfounded as she gazed around the room. “This should have worked.”

“We checked every calculation,” Jack said, equally mystified.

“And tested every single machine.” She threw up her hands. “I even made sure the damn computers turned on!”

“Well, obviously, this wasn’t going to work,” Jazz suddenly said, her anger returning. “You guys were trying to open a portal to nothing . Because ghosts don’t EXIST.”

She ripped off the hood and goggles. “I’m going back upstairs to change and burn this stupid jumpsuit, and work on processing this trauma that you have inflicted on us, yet again.” Without waiting for her parents to respond, she stomped back upstairs, her footsteps echoing off the silent basement walls

Jack shook his head. “What is her deal?”

“Oh, never mind her, Jack,” Maddie said. “We need to figure out what went wrong. We only have a day until the expo and we promised to present this.”

Danny’s parents turned their back on him and began working to restore the power, jumping right into a deep discussion. Danny took the moment to quietly slip away back upstairs.

The second he was back into his room, he let out a long exhale. Suddenly remembering he was wearing the jumpsuit, he hastily ripped it off and then threw it in the trash bin in the corner of his room.

He flopped back onto his bed, and lay in the stillness of his room for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He stared up at the plastic, glow in the dark stars and planets stuck on his ceiling.

He couldn’t believe there was a moment back there where he thought the machine was working.

He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if ghosts were real. There were no real scientific facts about them. All those convention attendees at the ghost hunters expo all had different theories about what ghosts are - the religiously damned, aliens, spirits with unfinished business, souls that died before their time, another species - no one could settle on a single argument.

But if they did exist, what would happen then? Would they swarm the Earth, like cicadas after their years long sleep? Would they haunt each and every home and building in towns and cities, and try to claim it as their own? Would the world be plunged into a ghost apocalypse, where every human had to fight for their own human survival and soul? Were ghosts malicious or peaceful?

His parents might be arrested for creating the portal in the first place, if it did turn out bad. Or the government might force them to work alongside them to rid the Earth of the ghost population. What would happen to him and Jazz? Would they be put into juvie, just for being the kids of the Fenton Freaks? Would they be put into foster care, once the government decided Jack and Maddie were unfit parents for him and Jazz?

What if the human population adopted a sick fascination of ghosts? Businesses would try to profit off the ghosts by selling fake anti-ghost protection devices or offer tours inside “haunted” houses. There might even be a community in which some would fall in love or even want to become a ghost themselves.

The world would become absolute chaos.

Danny shuddered at the thought. He didn’t understand what his parents saw in trying to prove their existence. What good would proving the undead existed bring to the world?

His anxious, spiraling thoughts were interrupted when his computer dinged. Danny got up and sat down at his desk. He wiggled his mouse to wake up his computer. Tucker had sent him a message.

Still have all of your hair?

Danny chuckled and wrote back.

Yep. Nothing happened though. But the power in the basement blew.

Damn , was Tucker’s response. And I had just invested in a 25 pack of markers to color your head in Lancer’s class when you fall asleep.

Danny laughed out loud. I can only imagine all the pensises you’d draw.

I had planned no less than 50. Two for each color.

Well I hope you kept your receipt cause I still have a full head of hair. Unlike you. Danny made a jab at Tucker’s own buzzed haircut. He had tried growing out dreads for the school year, but his mother forced him to shave it off after he got caught staying up on the computer way too late one night. She paid the barber to give him a military buzz cut.

Shut up, dude, Tucker typed back. While you were away not getting your hair fried off your scalp, I was devising up a new battle plan to defeat Chaos.

Danny smiled. Oh yeah? Lay it on me.

#danny phantom #phantomorigins #phantom #ghosts #nickelodeon #fanfiction #danny fenton #half ghost #sam manson #tucker foley #jack fenton #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #dannyphantomfanfiction #Phanfiction #ao3 #ao3 danny phantom

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thelasttime · 3 years

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Hey! So for your anon asking hypnosis for ptsd - I haven’t done traditional hypnosis with my current psychologist because she has a different approach to addressing trauma and some people can get really triggered by the hypnosis and end up worse. It depends on how far along you are in your therapy and the whole “I am detached from these memories, these are just memories and even though they are bad they can’t hurt me in the now” as well as the “I shit off certain parts, emotions and behaviors to function, but I can turn those back on and feel safer than I did when I turned them off” thing.

If you go into a full hypnosis too early, you can be confronted with things you may have repressed, or even if you haven’t repressed them, you can feel VERY present in those moments/ memories and then all of a sudden, times up, you have to go and it feels like you’ve just relived the worst day of your life again ! I had a psychiatrist try and bring me to one of my worst moments after only a few sessions and it was a horrible experience.

With my current psychologist we often do a breathing exercise where it’s like I’m in a very light trance and it’s like I go back to certain moments I need help with, but it’s like I’m a ghost in my memory and help my past self through it. Like, I’ll use a non triggering / fictional example - if my worst memory was a scoop of ice cream falling out of my ice cream cone as a 5 year old, ill go back to that memory and notice how it smells, sounds, what the ground feels like etc etc and the person I am now would either tell my 5 year old self it’s just an ice cream and you’re allowed to be sad because you were looking forward to it, but just because you dropped your ice cream today doesn’t mean it will happen with every ice cream! Other times you can have ice cream and it will stay in the cone and you’ll love it - maybe get it in a cup next time? Was there something you did that caused it to tip? How can we prevent that? Or how about i take you to get another one and we repair the memory by changing the narrative of what happened? ⬅️⬅️⬅️ I do want to emphasise that was very much a fictional scenario and not all moments we visit can be solved so easily (none of them can because I’m not in therapy over dropping an ice cream lol)

But if you’re interested in hypnosis, I’d suggest trying some guided meditations - there are some on YouTube and Spotify. They can be about anything, the topic of the medication isn’t really important, but just see if you’re susceptible to those “thought implants” like ‘breathe in and out and when I count to three you’ll be feeling confident’ or something. Then you can work on getting in that zone/ quieting your mind / not judging or analysing the things the voice on the tape says (some of the guided meditations and therapists will say some things that feel weird in the moment, so it’s good if you can not focus on it being weird or you can’t really get in that zone.

There is also another sort of therapy where you sit in front of a blinking light - it’s called EMDR - and is meant to be really good for ptsd but not as intense on your body/ mind as hypnosis. I’ve never been able to try it because there is only one psychiatrist where I live that does it and he’s an expert in the field so he charges MASSIVE fees. But I’d suggest looking into that and if you can get it where you live and what you can afford.

Sorry this was so long but I hoped it helped a bit! Good luck and sending you love if you want it anon 💛

!!!!!!! for anon, this is so much information!! thank you so much!!

#anonymous #asks #asking you this*

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ghoulciifer · 4 years

Text

submission:

@androgynouswordsmyth: “Hi Tum c: this is for your matchup event! 5’6”, with an hourglass figure, has that broad shouldered goddess energy going on. Used to swim competitively in highschool & still have a nice shape. Would describe my style as athletic comfort meets swamp witch. Love wearing black, it goes with everything. But also one of those people that wears workout clothes because they’re comfortable & easy. An admirer of all things relating to the occult & witchcraft. I have two tattoos small ones on my upper thigh & on the inside of my bicep. Often asks “What’s your sign?” Green eyes & shoulder length brown hair that is dyed seafoam green. I am soft spoken & gentle when I interact with everybody. All about self growth & healing. A huge advocate for self care. Love venting about my dumb corporate job. Deep down I'm a rebel anarchist. Often says things like “I’m just a cog in their machine” or “metal till I die”. My end game is writing fantasy novels for a living writing is my passion. I am a person who gets lost in thought & day dreams, a homebody who is fatigued & curls up in bed with Netflix playing in the background while I write rp responses or some of my own stuff. I have depression & anxiety, which I manage with both medication & therapy. Am attracted to bad boys/girls. Kindness & respect in my relationships are important, emotional maturity & a sense of humor are huge & my favorite color is dark pine green. Someone from BNHA, NSFW. Write what feels right.”

notes: aiden! i’m so happy you participated in my event, also you seem like the coolest person? ever? so of course i had to pair you up with one of the coolest dudes in bnha! your support means the world, thank you so much for being my mutual on this hell app ❥

why i matched you:

» you and dabi would get along exceptionally well, both with how you are and how you present yourself. your inner anarchists would collide beautifully and no doubt lead you two into trouble, but who else would you rather start a riot with than someone like him? he thinks it’s kickass that you understand what it means to be a pawn in society’s game, and has no issue with having you by his side to tear that shit down.

» dabi really adores your aesthetic. he finds it incredibly intriguing and thinks it suits your personality well; your hair, your occult lifestyle, and boy does he love your tattoos. he often offers to pay (w stolen money ofc) for you to get more if you want them - one of the best ways of self expression is covering yourself with art, and he supports it wholeheartedly. he likes to trace the ink on your skin during intimate moments and often finds himself admiring them elsewhere, thinking about how gorgeous you’d look with a few more pieces in places only he could see.

» though he might not be as poetic as you, dabi admires your creativity and urges you to keep up with your passion. he’s going to be super lowkey about it but he shows that feeling by doing smaller things, like picking up notebooks for you here and there or offering to get you better quality pens for when you’re brainstorming a story. he won’t tell you but he sometimes reads your stories at night while you’re sleeping (only the ones you’ve offered for him to read, though), and is always left in awe of how talented his girl is.

» when he’s not painting the town red or burning someone to a crisp, he’s more than happy to stay at home with you and curl up with a good show. despite his wicked, cold demeanor he’s actually very affectionate with the person he chooses to pursue! so expect lots of gentle touches, lazy kisses here and there, soft whispers here and there about how warm you are and how nice you feel against his charred skin. he’s not afraid to show you his love because if you can stick with someone like him, well, that’s proof enough that you’re worth it all.

» dabi never does anything without purpose. every action he takes is a part of the grander scheme of things, and he does so with such a drive that is rivaled by most heroes. so you can definitely check maturity off your list. as far as humor goes? he’s a smug bastard, and his sly remarks and teases are aimed directly at you for the sole purpose of making you smile. sometimes he’ll just sit and say the dumbest things to see how hard he can make you laugh, because in a life surrounded by death and darkness, your giggles really help him see it all in a different light.

» dabi’s experienced enough trauma to understand what your inter turmoil is like, but he’s beyond proud of you for taking charge and handling it however you can. he’ll be your biggest supporter when you need it and is so goddamn protective of you. you’ll never not feel safe, because it’s that constant worry in the back of his mind about how just being with him puts a target on your back that pushes him to take extra precaution. you might have a few close calls here and there because, let’s face it, villains are ruthless - but at the end of the day he’s always able to pull you right back to him and remind you he’ll always come for you.

drabble:

Dabi rolls off of your spent body with a slight groan, the thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Your chests rise and fall to a steady rhythm of labored breathing - and as much as you both loved being tangled with each other mere minutes ago, you need a second to let your sweltering skin cool off and your aching muscles to relax after that particularly tiring session. Dabi catches the exasperated sigh escaping your lips and grins from your slumped form in his peripheral.

He always thought you looked the most beautiful like this. When your eyes were half lidded and pupils blown, skin covered in teeth marks and bruises, hair haphazardly strewn about on the pillows. It was a sign he did a job well done, and the image brands itself into his memory every time he’s lucky enough to see it happen. Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t see that sinfully innocent smile tug at the corners of your mouth when you catch him zoning in on your post sex euphoria.

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to take a picture… they last much longer.”

He laughs, a short exhale from his pierced nose, “I might just do that, doll. Next time.”

Your smile grows wider and you prop yourself up on your elbows, sliding over the tangled sheets to get closer to him and be able to reach and trace over the stapled skin of his chest with delicate fingertips. He closes his eyes at the feeling before loosely wrapping an arm around your lower back, thumb gliding back and forth just below your ribs.

You bask in this comfortable silence for what feels like a lifetime. This was your favorite part of the aftercare, just enjoying each other’s presence that much more as you regain a stable heartbeat, eventually letting Dabi gather you in his strong hands to lay you over his scarred chest when the cool air overstays its welcome on his skin. Once your cheek meets his chest he leans forward to ghost a kiss into your damp hairline, lips lingering there a bit longer every time. The steady beat of his heart usually lulled your eyes closed with its melody. At this point, it was all routine.

Dabi is the first to break the silence, the deep gravel in his voice reverberating through his chest against your ear, “Y’know… if we’re gonna fall asleep like this, the least you could do is read me a bedtime story.”

“Too tired… s’your fault.” he feels your smile and hot breath against his pectoral, broad chest rumbling in laughter at your quip.

“Hm, guess I need to go easier next time. But you weren’t complaining when I was balls dee-“

“Dabi!” You smack his skin and whip your head upward to look him in the eye with a look of feigned shock, and it's hard to contain the giggle that escapes from your dropped jaw. He chuckles again before craning his neck to leave a peck at your bottom lip, his hand raising to push your head gently down to his chest again, the other finding its way beneath the pillow under his head.

“Shh, just go to sleep, stupid.”

“Shut up… dummy.”

matchups are CLOSED! thank you to those who entered or have been keeping up with this event! remember you can check to see updates on matchups + if your matchup has been posted via the #tumplaysmatchmaker tag!

#tumplaysmatchmaker #nishiikun’s events #dabi x reader #dabi matchup #dabi fic #dabi x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha matchup #bnha fic #dabi bnha

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

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summary- Jimin wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with his best friend, he only knew that it was getting worse. rating- explicit / 18+ word count- 2623 pairing- yoongi x jimin genre- smut warnings- unprotected sex a/n - this is my first BTS one shot, I was dumb and didn’t realize how amazing they are until recently please be gentle lol

Jimin didn’t remember when he began to feel the way he did about Yoongi. Perhaps his feelings had blossomed between the contagious laughter and the soulful smiles. Perhaps it was the first time that Yoongi had cried in front of him, the pain and the brokenness flowing down his cheeks as Jimin held him close. Maybe it was the way he licked his lips subconsciously when deep in thought.

Jimin wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with his best friend, he only knew that it was getting worse. The yearning, it burned in his stomach, so forceful and unrelenting. It wasn’t all sexual. Jimin loved the sparkle in Yoongi’s eyes when he rapped a whole verse perfectly. He loved the sass in Yoongi’s voice when someone woke him up. He loved the childlike wonder when Yoongi found the perfect beat. He loved the fierce determination in Yoongi’s eyes when he was about to prove someone wrong. He loved Yoongi.

Jimin would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t love the way Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair, or the way his hips moved when he danced. Speaking of the devil, Jimin thought as his best friend entered the dance studio to practice with the group. Normally Jimin was the late one, but after a particularly sleepless night, he’d been itching to get to Yoongi sooner rather than later.

Flashes of his dream the night before flitted through his mind before he could stop them. Yoongi’s hands trailing torturously slow down Jimin's chest, their mouths working together like choreography, the taste of Yoongi on Jimin’s tongue.

“Jimin!” Namjoon snapped his fingers in front of Jimin's face. “You in there?”

“What? Sorry. Must’ve zoned out.” Jimin muttered.

He glanced over at Yoongi who stood silent, but concern filled in his dark eyes. Jimin flashed him a reassuring smile before jumping on Namjoon’s back and demanding his noble steed to carry him away. This seemed to satisfy Yoongi, his worried expression melting away. He rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

Practice began and Jimin's focus transitioned to making sure he got the moves right. He might have been a lovesick puppy but he was not a slacker. He pushed his body as far as it could go. Faster. Faster. Don’t forget the drop-kick. Turn, down, jump.

After practice, he had just been about to leave, second to last when he noticed Yoongi rubbing his ankle tenderly. Having come down from one of the jumps a little too aggressively had made the area tender. Jimin leaned down to inspect the minor injury.

“You okay?” He questioned.

Yoongi’s eyes met his own as he sat up straighter and it took everything Jimin had not to suck in a breath. When Yoongi had adjusted his position on the floor, it had brought their faces mere inches apart. Jimin could feel Yoongi’s hot breath fanning his face, he could smell his minty toothpaste. Jimin shivered.

“I’m fine, just a little sore.” Yoongi explained, eyes flicking from Jimin’s own down to his ankle.

Jimin had always been touchy, always been affectionate with everyone around him. He’d never shied away from physical touch with anyone, least of all Yoongi. Jimin took every opportunity he could to press his skin against the older boy’s. He took Yoongi’s ankle in his hands and rubbed the inflicted area. Yoongi hissed under his breath and Jimin’s gaze snapped up to Yoongi’s face.

Wordlessly, Jimin dug into his bag for pain relieving ointment. He placed a small amount on his hands, then massaged it into Yoongi’s ankle. Small whimpers left Yoongi’s lips involuntarily, and Jimin’s sweats seemed to grow a little tighter. He tried to adjust discreetly, keeping up with aiding Yoongi.

“Fuck.” Yoongi hissed, head falling back to expose his neck, glistening with sweat. Jimin wanted to taste it.

Jimin’s hands stilled, concerned he’d hurt his friend worse by trying to help.

“Sorry, you okay?”

“Yeah, that actually feels so fucking good. It’s like you have magic fingers.” Yoongi said breathlessly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke.

All the air left Jimin’s lungs. His mouth went dry. His eyes transfixed on Yoongi’s throat.

“Don’t stop, please.” Yoongi urged.

Jimin could taste the blood in his mouth as he bit down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from groaning at the way Yoongi damn near whined. Jimin reminded himself this was not a sexual situation. His friend was hurt and he was helping. Tell that to his dick, which had sprung to life as soon as the first noise had left Yoongi’s mouth.

Jimin took a shaky breath and continued massaging the medication into Yoongi’s skin. Jimin tortured himself for another ten minutes before suggesting that they should go play games. If Jimin didn’t get his hands off Yoongi soon he was going to bust in his pants.

Yoongi deemed his ankle well enough for that plan. Jimin helped him up and they walked to Jimin’s apartment together. Yoongi made himself at home, pulling out two water bottles and handing one to Jimin before sitting on Jimin’s bed.

“What do you want to play?” Jimin asked as he turned on the game system.

“Hmmm.. call of duty?” Yoongi offered.

Jimin set up the game and they began working together to defeat the enemy at hand. Soon Jimin noticed that Yoongi was slowing down, his right hand often reaching up to rub his left shoulder as his face contorted.

“Dude, you’re falling apart.” Jimin joked, shoving Yoongi playfully.

“I don’t know what happened. First my ankle. Now my shoulder. My whole body hurts man.” Yoongi complained.

Jimin knew it was a bad idea. He knew nothing good could possibly come of it. He knew he should remain quiet. And yet, he heard himself speak before the decision was even fully made.

“Lay down on the bed.” He instructed, standing.

“Gonna take advantage of me in my weakened state?” Yoongi joked.

“You wish!” Jimin threw back at him with a grin.

“Nah. I’m more of a top myself.” Yoongi winked before spreading himself across Jimin’s bed.

Jimin swallowed nervously, unable to retort Yoongi’s last reply. He crawled over to Yoongi, and placed his hands on the boys clothed shoulders. He began to massage the tension out.

Yoongi closed his eyes for a while then he shifted uncomfortably, before huffing in annoyance and sitting up, flinging his shirt off and laying back down.

“Stupid thing was in the way.” He grumbled.

Jimin froze, his eyes scanning along Yoongi’s smooth skin. Muscles taut underneath. Jimin willed his cock to chill for a second and thought exclusively about vaginas until the hard on passed.

“Yo, why’d you stop?” Yoongi whined.

“Sorry.” Jimin coughed, placing his hands on Yoongi’s skin once more.

His firm, yet gentle touch moved along Yoongi’s shoulders, pressing in and moving in circular motions. Yoongi let out little grunts, and Jimin did his best to ignore them. He found it difficult to get the right angle to massage the knot out of Yoongi's lower back from his position beside him.

Despite all rational judgement that Jimin possessed, he swung his leg over Yoongi’s back, straddling the older boy and resting on his plush bottom. Yoongi let out a surprised gasp and Jimin almost died on the spot. He ignored the tightening in his stomach and put all of his strength into working the knot out of Yoongi’s back.

Yoongi’s small grunts turned to loud moans as Jimin worked. The sounds of pleasure escaping Yoongi’s plump lips were downright pornographic. Jimin closed his eyes and put all of his focus into the movement of his hands, doing everything in his power not to get hard while sitting on top of his friend.

Jimin was fighting a losing battle, and after one particularly shaky moan from underneath him, he bolted off of his friend and dove under the covers to hide. His dick was throbbing with desire and he prayed to anyone listening that Yoongi hadn’t felt it.

“What's wrong?” Yoongi asked, turning to face Jimin then making a pained face and laying back down.

“I uh… I-I” Jimin stuttered.

Yoongi grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, effectively covering his lap as he sat up to face Jimin.

“Are you okay?” He asked

Jimin closed his eyes and willed the erection away with every ounce of strength he had. Yoongi ripped the blanket away to reveal Jimin’s face, and in the process, also revealed Jimin’s current issue: his rock hard issue.

Yoongi’s mouth fell open as Jimin’s stomach sank. Jimin attempted to flee the bed, but yoongi's hand darted out to catch him by the wrist, yanking him back. The bed bounced as Jimin fell into it and Yoongi hovered over the younger man. Jimin felt Yoongi’s hard cock press into his own through their sweats. A gasp left his lips as his eyes met the ones above him.

“Don’t try to run away.” Yoongi commanded softly, his gaze piercing through Jimin.

Both boys could feel Jimin’s cock twitch at Yoongi’s words. This caused Yoongi to smirk.

“You like that? Like it when I take control?” He hummed, lips brushing over Jimin’s pulse point. Jimin shivered.

“Yes.” Left Jimin’s lips in a whisper.

Yoongi’s lips ghosted down to the hollow of Jimin’s throat, placing a kiss there. Jimin lifted his chin to give Yoongi more access.

“Mmm.. so needy for me.” Yoongi smirked satisfactorily.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I’m not gonna play hard to get.” Jimin tossed back, though he wasn’t even the slightest bit ashamed.

“Hmmm..? You dreamt about me?” Yoongi searches Jimin’s eyes.

“Every fucking night.” Jimin admitted

“What did I do in these dreams?” Yoongi inquired.

Yoongi’s lips sucking on Jimin’s collarbones did not help Jimin think clearly enough to voice his fantasies to the other man.

“A-ah, fuck. You’d tease me, just like this.” Jimin whined.

Yoongi smiled against Jimin’s skin, then sat up to pull Jimin’s shirt off of his body. Yoongi let out a low growl upon freeing Jimin of the offending fabric. His tongue ran across his lips before he put it to use on Jimin’s nipples.

Jimin moaned, tangling his fingers in Yoongi’s hair and tugging gently. This only spurred Yoongi on. His tongue flicked against Jimin’s taught nipples, teeth tenderly grazing against the nubs as he worked his way down Jimin’s chest.

Yoongi’s hand brushed lightly over Jimin’s clothed length, causing Jimin to let out a hiss.

“What do you want?” Yoongi asked.

“Touch me. Please.” Jimin begged.

Yoongi wasted no time in sliding his hand under the waistband of Jimin’s sweats, taking his length in his hand and pumping. Jimin’s abs clenched, and as much as he loved the attention, he wanted to touch Yoongi. Jimin's fingers found Yoongis elastic and pulled the pants and boxers down, exposing Yoongi’s swollen, dripping cock.

Jimin had never been so horny is his entire life. He jerked against Yoongi's hand, while reaching out with his own to cup Yoongi's aching cock with his own hand. Yoongi groaned and pulled away. Jimin was about to ask what happened when he watched Yoongi rid himself of his sweats and boxers in one swift motion. Jimin lifted his hips to remove his own but Yoongi was too quick, leaning over and yanking the clothes from Jimin's body. Both men completely naked, on display for each other.

Jimin pulled Yoongi onto the bed with him, and flipped them around so he was on top of Yoongi once more. Jimin took his time, admiring each and every inch of Yoongi's skin as his lips trailed their way towards where Yoongi was dying to feel Jimin. Jimin licked the tip of Yoongi's swollen cock and Yoongi’s uneven breathing picked up speed. He was dizzy with desire. When Jimin’s lips finally covered the length of Yoongi’s cock, when Yoongi could feel Jimin’s tongue swirling around his shaft, Yoongi couldn’t hold back his desperate noises.

Jimin was made to suck dick, Yoongi decided. He was torn between closing his eyes and relishing the feeling and watching Jimin’s every move. Yoongi loved when Jimin’s eyes met his own, his plump lips wrapped around his length. Jimin was so pretty. Jimin did his best to excel in all things, and bringing Yoongi to the edge of release was no different. Yoongi might’ve been embarrassed at how fast he’d come to the edge if he could actually think.

“Fu-Jimi- I’m gonna-“ Yoongi warned the younger boy, but Jimin didn’t move, only sucked harder.

Yoongi's whole body convulsed as he bucked into Jimin’s waiting mouth and came with a cry of Jimin’s name. He spilled down Jimin’s throat. Jimin, the good boy he was, drank up every drop and worked Yoongi through all that his orgasm was worth.

Yoongi couldn’t stop shaking for a few moments, his whole world was spinning with the earth shattering orgasm Jimin had just gifted him. It wasn’t until Jimin licked his lips seductively, eyes trained on Yoongi’s that Yoongi was brought out of his fog.

With a growl, Yoongi pinned the younger man beneath him, holding both hands above his head with one of his own and trailing a blaze of kisses anywhere he could reach. He nipped and licked and sucked purple and red bruises all over Jimin’s body. Jimin was writhing beneath Yoongi, feeling every breath, every heartbeat, every move Yoongi made with such intensity he was sure he would explode.

“Mmm.. you did so good for me baby.. I think you deserve something in return, don’t you?” Yoongi smirked as his lips ghosted over Jimin’s leaking tip.

“Oh fuck yes please.” Jimin begged.

He’d felt so powerful, rendering Yoongi speechless with a flick of his tongue across Yoongi’s throbbing length, but now felt helpless under the older boy's touch. Stars formed behind Jimin’s eyelids when Yoongi's mouth sank down on Jimin’s erection. Jimin squirmed, gasps leaving his parted lips as Yoongi worked his magic down below. Jimin did his best not to buck his hips up into Yoongi's mouth but it just felt so good. Yoongi didn’t complain, just adjusted his jaw and worked his skillful tongue to bring Jimin higher and higher.

Jimin gripped the bed sheets with his left hand, the fingers on his right threading themselves in Yoongi’s soft blonde locks.

“Yoongi… close…” Jimin barely got the words out, breathless and falling apart.

Yoongi ran his free hand up Jimin’s torso, interlacing their fingers in a surprising sweet moment, making the whole moment more intimate, more intense. Jimin couldn’t hold it in anymore, throwing his head back and shaking as his orgasm crashed over him in waves. Yoongi took it all, working Jimin through his high. Jimin’s abdomen kept spasming even after he’d come down. Yoongi smiled to himself and crawled up Jimin’s body, connecting their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss. Jimin kissed back with the same passion, before pulling back to catch his breath. He pulled Yoongi closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“Fuck… no wonder you call it tongue technology.” Jimin panted.

Yoongi chuckled and placed chaste kisses to the corners of Jimin’s mouth. Jimin turned, capturing Yoongi's lips with his own. He sighed contently, letting his racing heart slow down in time with Yoongi’s calming breaths. The silence was comfortable, and it stretched on as the two men held each other.

“Yoongi?” Jimin whispered.

“Yeah?” Yoongi looked up into the younger mans sparkling eyes.

“I… I love you.” Jimin bit his lip nervously, entire body tense as he waited for Yoongi to react.

Yoongi’s face softened, and his lips turned up in a tender smile.

“I love you too, Jimin. I always have.”

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