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sonufabitchhhhh · 1 year

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Metal Family - Dee x Reader

Your Secret’s Out and the Best Part is it isn’t Even a Good One

Summary (Request 1): HEY UH CAN U WRITE A DEE FANFIC WITH A S/O THAT CAN DRAW REALLT GOOD AND ONE DAY SHE LEAVES HER SKETCHBOOK AT DEES HOUSE AND HE SEES THAT THERES PICTURES OF HIM IN IT? - @ilovesillycats

(Request 2): maybe dee takes y/n somewhere, like maybe to a park and asks her on a date! >:3 - @katdragon1915

Masterlist

Y/n and Dee were practically inseparable. Everyone knew this; it was hard not to know this when they're always by each other's side.

They had plenty in common, and y/n's sweet nature naturally balanced out Dee's sarcasm.

However, while Dee was more the brains, y/n was more the artist. Dee would help y/n with homework and assignments when they'd study together, but though she always had it with her, he was never allowed to see her sketchbook.

Dee had seen some of y/n's art, when she'd been sketching random pieces in the art rooms at school for example. But she was very protective over most of her work. If ever he saw she was sketching, Dee would always try to sneak a peek. If she didn't move, or gave him more space to look, that was his permission, but if she held her work closer, Dee knew to back off.

The only thing Dee couldn't understand was why she wouldn't let him see most of her work. He'd seen some of her pieces, why couldn't he see the others. He knew her art was brilliant, he always made sure to compliment her on her skills. So why?

"What are you drawing?" Dee asked mindlessly, as y/n drew in her sketchbook next to him while they hung out at his place.

They're time together would often go like this: the two listening to music on Dee's bed, while they chatted about anything and everything, and y/n would draw her secretive artwork.

"That's for me to know, and you to inconclusively wonder about." Y/n replied with a smile, knowing it was killing him to find out.

"Uggghhh! C'mon y/n! You know I love your work, there's nothing you could show me that I wouldn't like."

"Who said you liking it is the problem?" Y/n paused her movements to stare at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Then why can't I see?" Dee propped himself up a bit more, thinking he was closing in on an answer.

"Well... that's for me to know, and you-"

"Alright! I get it!" Dee huffed while y/n laughed musically.

The two went back to their mindless conversation until y/n had to leave.

It was late in the evening, long after y/n had left, when Dee saw it. Y/n's sketchbook. She had taken her case of pencils, but she must've forgotten to take the sketchbook along with it.

Dee had spent the better part of an hour after this discovery, trying to decide whether to look through it or not.

He was desperate to know what was in there, but was it worth violating her privacy? Then again, she would never have to know. But he wants her to show him her work, willingly. He wants to watch her explain each line, and feature to him like she has with so many other works. But if she never knows about him looking through it, there's still time for that...

With that final thought, he cracked the book open slightly, the worn cover, and untethering spine holding together so many pages. With just the smallest amount open, he could see smudges of pencil around the edges of the pages from where she'd shaded drawings and gotten pencil on her hands, later to rub off on the outer edges of the page.

With a deep breath, he fully opened the book to a random page. He had no idea what to say to what he was met with.

A beautifully drawn picture of himself was sitting on the page. He had no idea when it was from, but he was looking off somewhere, smiling sincerely. He must've been with her at the time to be smiling so pleasantly.

The way she'd drawn him, each line, each gradient, perfectly brought out his best features. He liked the way he looked in this drawing better than he'd ever liked the look of himself in any mirror or photo.

He somewhat reluctantly turned the page, but was pleasantly surprised when he saw another drawing of himself, somehow even better than the last.

Dee flipped through pages for a long time, taking the care to admire the ever present skill in each sketch.

After a while, he came to a drawing and realised that it was of him today, as he had sat on his bed next to y/n, like so many other of the drawings, yet still different. Sure enough, there was no drawing on the next page. So this is what she had been drawing this whole time. Why she wouldn't let him see. Was she embarrassed? Did this make him her muse? Either way, all he wanted to do was tell her he loved each and every piece, for they truly reflected her skill, and brought out a beauty in him that he thought he wouldn't ever be able to see in anything other than her art. He doesn't understand how she's able to see it and capture it.

But he knows he can't tell her what he saw. It would only prove that he betrayed her trust and looked through the art she was so protective of. But would it be worth it to assure her it's ok?

The next day y/n and Dee went to the local park, which was pretty dead, as per usual. Dee had insisted on going somewhere different for a change.

The two had been sitting at the swings, talking for a while. It was peaceful. But Dee seemed... skittish.

"Hey Dee?" Y/n asked sweetly. With an indicating hum as response, she continued. "Are you alright? You seem a little on edge today."

A momentary look of inner turmoil crossed his face, but was gone before y/n could process, leaving her wondering if she'd truly seen it. "I'm fine. I almost forgot, you, uh.. left this at my place yesterday." Dee stated plainly while handing over her sketchbook from his bag.

"Oh my god, I didn't even notice it was gone!" Y/n had a look of horror on her face, as if she'd abandoned a dear friend and they were scowling at her for it. "I wasn't going to bring it with me today 'cause I didn't think there'd be much space to draw in the park."

Y/n cradled the sketchbook close to her chest and smiled at Dee gratefully. Dee loved that smile. Maybe she should forget her belongings more often.

"Anyway, there was something I wanted to-" Dee began speaking, with an air of nervousness around him, but was abruptly interrupted by y/n.

"Wait!" Y/n spoke with dread in her tone. "Did you... did you look in my sketchbook?"

Dee saw the look of pure fear on her face, and his heart melted at the thought of her being so afraid of him seeing her art. It was so beautiful, how could she be so scared of him seeing it?

He debated lying for a moment, to preserve her feelings and give her the chance to show him her work in her own time. But then he thought enough is enough. She was going to hear acceptance from him whether she liked it or not.

With a deep breath and an attempt at a calm demeanour, Dee addressed her concerns. "I did look in your sketchbook," he began, and hurriedly continued at the flash of concern on her face, "but I thought your drawings were incredible!"

Y/n took a moment to reply. Was he lying to make her feel better? Was he secretly creeped out at all the drawings of him?

"But what about all of the drawings of... we'll, of you?" Y/n asked fearfully. "Aren't you.. freaked out that I drew so many?"

"Of course not!" Dee reassured.

Dee wasn't really the type to say sweet affirmations, or even to just be generally nice, but y/n was always an exception. He would say all the nice things in the world about y/n.

"I loved every drawing in that book. You're so, so talented, and the only thing that surprised me was the fact that you wanted to draw me!" Dee blushed slightly at that, wondering (hoping) that maybe she liked staring at his features. Maybe she liked drawing him because she thought he was worthy of being her art. Maybe she liked him too.

"Well of course I want to draw you, Dee." Y/n blushed a cute shade of pink, and smiled sweetly. "You're so pretty Dee, and honestly, I could simply never get sick of drawing you. Especially when you smile." Dee blushed scarlet at her words, at a loss for what to say to such a genuine compliment.

A moment of silence passed between them, neither knowing what to say.

"Y/n?"

Y/n hummed slightly in reply, anticipation rising for what he would say.

"Would you, maybe, I dunno, want to... go out some time? With me?" Dee asked, a nervous wreck.

With her wits slightly returning at the confirmation that Dee actually liked her back, y/n officially decided to be a smartass. "Isn't that kind of what we're doing?"

"Oh you know what I mean!" Dee huffed with a dramatic groan, blushing endlessly at her decision to tease him.

Y/n smiled like an idiot. "I'd love to, Dee."

A/N: omg I'm so ridiculously sorry for how long it's been! Especially since it's been literally forever since I received those requests! I've had serious writers block recently, especially for Dee cos I've been thinking about other fandoms, but I'm back! And I'm hoping I can try and get more fics out, or at the very least start a few. Again, super sorry! Hope you all enjoyed, please let me know any feedback or requests!

Hope you have a great day/night,

~ SonofaBeach

#dee x reader #metal family dee x reader #dee metal family #metal family #artist reader #dee x artist reader #glam metal family #vicki metal family #heavy metal family

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actualbird · 12 days

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apropos of nothing, but i suddenly remembered this baffling encounter i had with acupuncture back when i was in college. my mom got acupuncture and it helped her quit smoking (which, yay! whatever works, works!) and then she made me go to try to see if it'd cure a neurological condition i have (which uh, im neither here nor there over alternative medicine and whatnot but in her defense, i had had countless inconclusive diagnostic tests abt this condition so she was very much grasping at straws here for anything that would help me) and since im a good boy who follows what his mother says, i said "okay" and it was a pretty alright experience. i was and am currently still not very squeamish with needles so it didnt bother me very much. if anything, i just took the weekly acupuncture sessions as an hour to nap (with needles in me). but then one day, one of the needles (that went into my abdomen) had a....thingy at the end of it. it looked like a large-ish cork thingy balancing atop of the needle. and i was like "huh, what is that?" but i didnt say it out loud because of my debilitating anxiety and worry and i didnt wanna come off as the weird guy who asks too many questions at the acupuncturist. so i didnt ask. and the acupuncture guy thusly did not explain.

then he set the thingy on fire. and then he left the room.

i dont know about you, but in general i was taught that fires should not be left unattended. that goes for normal fires, but this was a fire lit perilously at the end of a needle sticking out of my abdomen. i guess i was the person attending to the fire, but like, i couldnt move. because of needles in me. it was a harrowing hour. i could not nap. there was an on fire thingy connected to my body. i spent a whole hour laying down alone with my thoughts and also with a small on fire thingy as company.

theres no moral to this story, it's just one of those things that made me go "hey what was that all about" but i never asked because i dont wanna be the weird guy whos not cool with fire needles

#actually the moral of the story is how averse i am to asking harmless questions. you could get me to walk into #speeding traffic with no questions asked if you said it to me sternly enough like yessir got it completely understand here i go #dootdootdoot #needles cw

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beannary · 2 months

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Bean PLEASE talk more about Douxie I am begging you! Or more about toa in general PLEASE

Ok so i went through my folder of my unfinished Toa fics to find stuff that I haven’t talked about before

So douxie fits the stereotypical vampire image you know he’s super pale and he’s goth and he keeps weird hours so I think that Eli was totally convinced that Douxie was a vampire and spent SO LONG trying to prove it only to end up with inconclusive evidence which he thinks it’s so frustrating because Douxie is SO WEIRD there must be something strange and magic about him but Eli for the life of him can’t figure out what it is so he defaults to vampire because that seems to be the most obvious thing

I can post the fanfic wip I have for this premise if people are interested in reading it. Idk how good it is since I wrote it like three years ago but I still like the concept

#bean babbles #answered asks #anonymous asks #Toa #tales of arcadia #hisirdoux casperan #toa trollhunters #toa wizards #toa hisirdoux #I love douxie so much

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thepastisalreadywritten · 10 months

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Titanic sub suffered 'catastrophic implosion,' all five aboard dead

By Joseph Ax and Steve Gorman

23 June 2023

June 22 (Reuters) - The five people aboard a missing submersible died in a "catastrophic implosion," a U.S. Coast Guard official said on Thursday, bringing a grim end to the international search for the vessel that was lost during a deep-sea voyage to the wreck of the Titanic.

"These men were true explorers who shared a distinct spirit of adventure, and a deep passion for exploring and protecting the world's oceans," OceanGate Expeditions, the U.S.-based company that operated the Titan submersible, said in a statement.

"Our hearts are with these five souls and every member of their families during this tragic time."

An unmanned robot deployed from a Canadian ship discovered the wreckage of the Titan on Thursday morning about 1,600 feet (488 meters) from the bow of the century-old wreck, 2-1/2 miles (4 km) below the surface in a remote area of the North Atlantic, U.S. Coast Guard Rear Admiral John Mauger said at a press conference.

"The debris field here is consistent with a catastrophic implosion of the vehicle," Mauger said.

The five aboard included the British billionaire and explorer Hamish Harding, 58; Pakistani-born business magnate Shahzada Dawood, 48, and his 19-year-old son, Suleman, both British citizens; French oceanographer and Titanic expert Paul-Henri Nargeolet, 77, who had visited the wreck dozens of times; and Stockton Rush, the American founder and chief executive of OceanGate, who was piloting the submersible.

Rescue teams from several countries had spent days searching thousands of square miles of open seas with planes and ships for any sign of the 22-foot (6.7-meter) Titan.

The submersible lost contact with its support ship on Sunday morning, June 18, about an hour and 45 minutes into what should have been a two-hour descent.

Mauger said it was too early to tell when the vessel's failure occurred.

The search operation had sonar buoys in the water for more than three days and had not detected any sort of loud explosive noise during the period, Mauger said.

The buoys had picked up some sounds on Tuesday and Wednesday that temporarily offered hope the people on board the Titan were alive and trying to communicate by banging on the hull.

But officials said analysis of the sound was inconclusive and that the noises might not have emanated from the Titan at all.

"There doesn't appear to be any relation between the noises and the location of the debris field on the sea floor," Mauger said on Thursday.

Robotic craft on the ocean floor will continue to gather evidence, Mauger said, but it is not clear whether recovering the bodies will be possible given the nature of the accident and the extreme conditions at those depths.

Five major pieces of the Titan have been found, including most of the pressure hull, officials said.

SAFETY CONCERNS

The search had grown increasingly desperate on Thursday, when the estimated 96-hour air supply was expected to run out if the Titan were still intact.

The Titanic, which sank in 1912 on its maiden voyage after hitting an iceberg, killing more than 1,500 people, lies about 900 miles (1,450 km) east of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and 400 miles (640 km) south of St. John's, Newfoundland.

The expedition to the wreck, which OceanGate has been operating since 2021, cost $250,000 per person, according to OceanGate's website.

Questions about Titan's safety were raised in 2018 during a symposium of submersible industry experts and in a lawsuit by OceanGate's former head of marine operations, which was settled later that year.

The sweeping search covered more than 10,000 square miles of ocean - about the size of the U.S. state of Massachusetts.

On Thursday, the deployment of two specialized deep-sea unmanned vehicles expanded the search to the ocean's depths, where immense pressure and pitch-black darkness complicated the mission.

The missing submersible and subsequent hunt captured worldwide attention, in part due to the mythology surrounding the Titanic.

The "unsinkable" British passenger liner has inspired both nonfiction and fiction accounts for a century, including the James Cameron blockbuster 1997 movie, which rekindled popular interest in the story.

#OceanGate Expeditions #Titan submersible #catastrophic implosion #U.S. Coast Guard #U.S. Coast Guard Rear Admiral John Mauger #Titan #Titanic #Canadian Coast Guard Ship (CCGS) Terry Fox #OceanGate Expeditions submersible #Royal Canadian Air Force CP-140 Aurora #ROV #expedition #deep-sea voyage #wreckage

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sleepy-spoonie · 7 months

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Today is World Narcolepsy Day 💤

I sometimes feel my journey with Narcolepsy can be boiled down to one sentence: I've always been sleepy.

For the majority of my adult life I've suffered from sleep attacks; moments of overwhelming sleepiness that lead me to nap without much of a warning. They can, and do, happen at any time, regardless of what I'm doing: watching TV, running errands, doing chores, talking, eating, driving. They can be annoying, inconvenient, and sometimes scary.

I was first tested for Narcolepsy in 2015, not long after I fell asleep whilst actively helping new roommates move in. My results were inconclusive, and I moved on. By early 2021, I couldn't get through a day without a lunch-break nap. I spent most of my weekends in bed, and was sleeping upwards of 11 hours at a time. When I was re-tested, just after I got married, I was diagnosed with Narcolepsy (without cataplexy). My sleep latency (time it takes to fall asleep) was 5 minutes.

I trialed several medications, some that didn't work, and some that gave me adverse reactions. My sleep attacks got worse. I had to ask for accommodations at work. By early 2022, I had to stop driving. Shortly after that, I was forced to quit my full-time job.

I am currently on a medication that works for me. It doesn't earn me better sleep, or stop me from needing to nap, but it undoubtedly makes me feel a little bit more human. I still struggle with sleep attacks, but instead of several times a day, I may experience them a few times a week. The attacks can sometimes still be overwhelming, but I've mostly learned what brings them on and can recognize the signs. And, I can drive again.

Narcolepsy is a learning curve. It affects everyone differently, and treatments vary. The medications and lifestyle changes that work for one person may not work for another. Advocate for yourself. Only you know what you need to live comfortably and safely with narcolepsy.

#worldnarcolepsyday #narcolepsy #narcolepsy type 2 #narcolepsy awareness #narcoleptic #sleep disorder #chronic illness #rare disease

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sirowsky-stories · 11 days

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The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 5 - Is This Goodbye?

Description: Having recovered enough that you were getting ready to leave the medical ward at Heroics HQ, the only thing tainting your relief at returning home, was not knowing if you'd get to spend any more time with your new favourite superhuman once you'd left.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 3414 (1469 words added) Masterlist (this story)

Three months later, you were not only back on your feet, but running. You’d never really been a runner before, favouring the peacefulness of walking, but now it seemed like such a freedom, you could barely get enough of it. You’d been in a coma for almost ten weeks, which had depleted your fat-reserves and made your muscles atrophy, and you were the scrawny sort to begin with, so the nutritionist had not been happy when you’d started requesting more physical activity. But after making a solemn vow to eat however much he asked, he’d finally agreed.

And you’d both been surprised to discover that you’d actually gained weight a lot faster when your body had begun to convert the fuel into muscles. You were heavier now than you ever had been, and you were genuinely proud of that, because you knew it meant you weren’t only strong again, but also stronger than before. It felt like a visible testament to your victory over evil. Plus… You looked good. You’d even gotten the colour and natural volume back in your hair.

You were still living at the Heroics HQ medical facility, and you were still being tested to the nines every single day, but you didn’t mind. Everyone there were nice to you, and it wasn’t like you were in a cage, you went outside every day. They just didn’t like it if you wandered off too far, since you hadn’t been discharged yet, which meant you were still their responsibility, legally.

You’d been pleasantly surprised to find out the organisation had taken care of all your bills and payments while you’d been in a coma and during the subsequent rehabilitation. Probably only to avoid any scandalous headlines from the media, had you decided to whine about losing your house due to the Heroics keeping you alive against all reasonable odds. But whatever their motivation, you were only grateful to them, because it meant your house and finances would still be very much in order, whenever you’d be heading back there.

Marcus had been instrumental in your recovery. As soon as they’d discovered that his electromagnetic currents helped you, the science-department had temporarily melded with the medical department to try and figure out why that was, and what might be the optimal way of utilizing this fortuitus abnormality. Luckily for you, this had meant many long hours spent with Marcus by your side as he’d carefully experimented with stimulating your muscles into cooperating with you.

It hadn’t been nearly as sexy as it sounded, most often resulting in unexpected jerks and spasms to whichever part of your body he’d been working on, nothing of which had had anything to do with any sort of pleasure. Progress, yes. But not pleasure. However, it had offered you plenty of time to talk to each other, which meant you knew a lot more about him now. Or at least, a lot more about Missy. The proud dad had quickly emerged once he’d gotten more comfortable around you.

Curiously, though, no one had been able to work out just how his current could have such a positive influence on your body. They thought it might have to do with some sort of harmonization between the tiny electrical impulses in your nerves and the frequency of his current, but they couldn’t say for sure. Because so far, all their tests had been inconclusive.

The never-ending tests didn’t bother you as much anymore, as you’d gotten used to the routine of them, but today was going to be a bit special in that regard, as you were about to do a test you’d never done before. The medical team wanted to do a full-scale physical exam, complete with endurance- and strength-tests, and you’d actually been looking forward to this. You were excited to find out how close you’d gotten to receiving that clean-bill-of-health stamp in your charts.

The tests themselves were gruelling, though. They involved running as fast as you could in short intervals, but then in the breaks between each interval you also had to do a strength exercise. Weightlifting, or working with kettlebells, or just regular push-ups. There were lots of different ones, and you never knew beforehand what the next one would be.

You jumped off the treadmill, leaving it running at the same speed, and once you were off, you were told which exercise to perform. The moment you completed it, it was back to the treadmill, and you weren’t allowed to alter the speed setting. If you couldn’t manage the thirty second interval, you had to step off and do another strength exercise.

After that, you were mercifully given an hour to rest, before you were going to take on an obstacle course to check your agility and reflexes, and it was at this point that Marcus joined the small crowd of maybe thirty people, who’d gathered to find out how you’d do. Most were people you’d met in the medical ward and who had been part of the team responsible for keeping you alive, and they were incredibly supportive. They’d been cheering you on and clapping every time you’d managed to complete an exercise.

Not that you were surprised by their enthusiasm at all. These were the people who had spent weeks working almost around the clock just to keep your heart beating. If there were any souls you would be able to count on for support on your progress, it would be them. It was slightly more surprising to realize, as you of course followed Marcus’ path through the crowd, that his mother, the almighty Anita Moreno, was also there, in the back of the little crowd.

What could she possibly want to see this for? You’d never met her, never even seen her other than on tv. Your only connection to her was through her son, but he had only mentioned her in the family sense, being the grandmother to his beloved daughter. Of course, you didn’t know if he’d talked to her about you. If she knew how important he’d been to your survival and recovery. If so, then it made sense she might be a little curious.

As you stood on the start line, doing your best not to let the massive wall, which was the first obstacle, deter you, your eyes were drawn back to Marcus, looking for comfort. He was in his uniform again, and he looked winded, as though he’d hurried to get there in time to see this. You noticed him throw a slightly confused gaze at his mother, though, once he clocked her, which seemed to confirm he hadn’t talked to her about you and certainly hadn’t expected to see her there.

But he apparently decided not to dwell on it yet, turning his gaze away from her and down to you. And when he realized you were already looking at him, he gave you an encouraging nod and a warm smile, as if to say “I know you’ve got this”. You’d been told that this course was the same one the Heroics regularly used for training, and that they’d scaled it down a bit for you, but the aim was still to test your physique quite rigorously, so it wouldn’t be easy.

Nervous, but also eager to find out how much your training had paid off, you signalled the controller in charge of the timer that you were ready, and then waited for the whistle. Scaled down or not, you found out right away that it really was a tough course. You had to use your whole body to get past practically every single obstacle, and by the end, you were so tired that you collapsed the moment you crossed the finish-line, to the zealous applause, whistles and cheers of the little crowd.

The twins were by your side immediately, taking your vitals to make sure there was nothing abnormal about your exhaustion. That you were only as spent as anyone should be after giving it everything they had for fifteen minutes. They’d been with you the whole day, and this was the final hurdle before you’d all get to rest. They’d both been sweating almost as much as you, just from worrying about you. Finishing their exam by comparing it to your readings throughout the day, they finally announced their verdict.

“All good. She’s okay,” they declared to the supervising physician, who in turn, looked at his digital pad and tapped a few times, before a smile crept into his features.

“Well, it’s not a course-record, but considering the fact that most humans don’t even finish this course on their first try, I think we can give you your stamp now.”

You sat up and stared wide-eyed at him, too stunned to find any words, but then Amaire shoved a water-bottle into your hand and all but pushed it into your mouth, temporarily sidelining your ability to respond.

“I’m officially declaring you completely recovered, and no longer in need of medical assistance,” the physician announced, loudly enough for the entire room to hear, before he kneeled beside you and put a hand on your shoulder, lowering his voice as he added: “Congratulations, miss. You really are a miracle.”

Joy bubbled up inside you as you took in his words. You’d made it. You’d actually made it. There was a light-hearted laughter in your throat as you worked on getting your pulse under control, made more difficult by the sudden burst of excitement.

“Don’t let Miracle Guy hear you say that, Doc, whatever you do,” you joked, and he chuckled.

“Hah, I’ll keep that in mind,” he winked, and then stood to leave.

And when he turned away, your favourite Heroic was suddenly right in front of you, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug in one fluid movement. He’d never hugged you before, and you wished that he hadn’t done it now when you were soaking his uniform in your sweat. But, holy crap, did his arms feel good around you.

“Felicidades, preciosa! I knew you’d be ready. How do you feel?” he laughed, while almost lifting you off the floor with exuberance, infecting you to laugh along with him.

“Thank you, Marcus, I feel amazing. Like I wanna sleep for a week, but still amazing,” you chirped, before reluctantly pulling back to look at him.

As wonderful as it was to be encircled by those arms, you wanted him to see your eyes when you spoke again.

“Really, thank you. I don’t know if I could have recovered this well without you, or if I would’ve even been able to wake my body up, ever again. I was trapped in the most impossible position imaginable, and you set me free. I’ve never thanked you for that. I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough,” you tried to explain, although it was hard to put words to how massive your gratitude really was.

He looked mildly embarrassed by your gratitude, and his eyes seemed a bit glossier as he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter. But you didn’t think he was being modest about the impact he’d had on your life, it was more like he was just overwhelmed by his own emotions, and perhaps not ready to let you see him at his most frail state of mind. Then he spoke, and suddenly you knew exactly how overwhelmed he felt.

“You have no idea what it means to me to see you like this. Strong, healthy and happy. I’ll never forget those eyes staring up at me that day in the hospital. That image haunted my dreams for weeks. So, every day I walked into your med-chamber, hoping to see you improved, only to find you unchanged. As if time had stopped, trapping you somewhere the rest of us couldn’t see or bring you back from. And it made me feel so helpless and useless.”

He spoke quietly, right by your ear. These words were only for you, and you could hear in his voice just how true they were. It brought tears of gratitude and joy to your eyes, but you held them back, for fear he might misinterpret them as pain.

“You don’t owe me a damned thing, hermosa,” he added after a taking a few calming breaths, although you could still feel the thumping of his heart against your ribcage. “The fact that I get to see those eyes smile again, is more than I ever dared to dream.”

But the moment abruptly ended then, when someone very loudly and deliberately cleared their throat right next to the two of you, making you automatically pull away from one another. And then you nearly choked on your own saliva when you realized the person standing there was his mother. Marcus, however, seemed only annoyed, all trace of overpowering emotion scrubbed from his face the moment he drew back from you.

“Hi, mom. I was wondering what brought you here today,” he greeted, but his tone was suspicious, and he demonstratively crossed his arms while he turned towards her.

“Are you not going to introduce me, hijo? Didn’t I raise you to be polite?” Mrs. Moreno chided, but her son was unaffected.

“Oh, and here I thought sneaking up on people, deliberately trying to make them uncomfortable was considered impolite. My mistake,” he snorted sarcastically, to which his mother merely glared. “She doesn’t need your dramatic flares today, mama. Let her have her moment in peace.”

But you just smiled at the two of them. You’d never been close with your own family, so it always warmed your heart to see people who were. And within the little tidbits he’d spoken about his mother during your long conversations in the med-chamber, you’d been able to discern that they were extremely close, which was why they could argue quite heatedly without ever getting truly angry with one another.

“That’s okay. A little drama can be very entertaining,” you chipped in, keeping your tone light and smiling as you looked from Marcus to his mother.

And since the son was clearly not gonna do it, you then introduced yourself, with a respectful nod, rather than offering your still sweat-soaked hand. However, instead of the customary response of introducing herself in return, since this was the first time you met, she didn’t respond to you at all, and instead gave her son a sideways glance.

“Don’t you have some Heroics to wrangle, Team Leader?” she huffed at him, to which his eyebrows climbed about three stories on his forehead.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Do I look like I have any intention of leaving you alone with a woman who has no idea just how horridly manipulative you can be?” Marcus countered, and he was actually starting to sound a bit angry now.

“Now you’re exaggerating, chico. When have I ever been horrid?”

“I can count it out for you, if you’d like. Or maybe the word ‘ambassador’ will suffice?” he taunted, but she just shrugged.

“That boy was a huevón. He needed a figurative slap in the right direction. And that situation has nothing to do with this,” she objected, but her son wasn’t having it.

“Oh, but it has everything to do with this, because when you’re willing to humiliate someone in front of their entire office, for no greater reason than to prove a point, people might think twice before allowing you the opportunity to meddle with their fucking lives.”

“Ay, mind your tongue,” was all the response she gave to his little tirade, she didn’t even try and argue her side of it, so apparently, Marcus was right in his observation.

“Not even a little bit. Now, if you’re not gonna be civil, or even polite enough to officially introduce yourself, much less explain why it’s suddenly so important for you to speak to someone you’ve taken no interest in before today, you better believe I’m not leaving my friend alone with you. So, either start talking, or go away,” he countered, and you didn’t miss the slightly possessive edge to the way he said my friend.

You were even a tad concerned at just how much you liked it. His mother, on the other hand, scoffed and then turned on her heels and walked away. Apparently not willing to discuss whatever matter had brought her to you, with him present.

“Sorry about that. She’s really sweet once you get to know her, but she’s also… tricky,” he excused, softening his stance and turning back to you once she’d left.

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded speaking with her,” you said, while grabbing a fresh towel to try and get rid of the worst of the perspiration on your face, neck, and arms.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but you don’t know how dangerous she is whenever she decides that something needs to change. Consider that she’s never once asked about you, even with all the time I’ve spent in the med-section. Missy asked me about you every day, but mom… She never wanted to know how you were doing or even any details about what happened to you. So, the fact that she’s approaching you now, when you’ve just been cleared, means she’s up to something, and I won’t trust her intentions until I know what it is.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t touched by your willingness to protect me from monster mom,” you said light-heartedly, mostly just to try and hide your shock and curiosity concerning the fact that his daughter had asked about you.

It seemed like such an intimate thing to learn that you’d been part of multiple conversations between a father and child, neither of which you knew all that well. But Marcus’ face broke into a sheepish expression at your jovial comment, and he bowed his head to look at his own shoes.

“I’d happily protect you from anyone,” he mumbled, as if he felt silly admitting he liked to act as your guardian.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to call if I’m ever in trouble again,” you smiled, and he looked up at you then.

For a moment, a shadow of something painful swept over his features, before he quickly tried to adapt a more neutral expression. It didn’t quite work, though.

“So… you’re leaving?” he asked, and suddenly his voice sounded so flat and lifeless.

“Well, yeah. I mean… I doubt they’ll just let me stay indefinitely and rent free. Not to mention take up a med-chamber which someone else will undoubtedly need at some point. And I do miss my house, though maybe not the cleaning I’m in for, come to think of it. Then again, I am overdue for a good deep-clean. Shit, I wonder if any of my plants made it? Is it weird that I’m looking forward to cleaning? And cooking, holy crap, do I miss cooking. And sun-bathing in the garden with my favourite music and curling up on the sofa with a boo-…” you cut yourself off when he started smiling in that knowing sort of way.

Although, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Crap. I’m rambling now, aren’t I?” you realized, feeling just a shade pathetic.

“A bit,” he confirmed. “But I get it. Home is… home. And I’m really glad you get to go back to yours, after everything.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, and now it was your turn to look slightly sheepish as you weren’t sure how to continue this conversation.

What more was there to say? You didn’t wanna just say goodbye and walk off, that would feel like shutting a door in his face, somehow.

“Um… so, I’m sure there’s a bunch of paperwork I’ll have to sign, and I most definitely need a long shower and a lot of soap before I go anywhere,” you blabbered, trying to get to the part you actually wanted to say. “But I would love to see you before I leave.”

“Sure. I’ll most likely be in Operations, or my office. Just ask around,” he nodded, swaying a little awkwardly on the soles of his feet.

“Okay,” you nodded in return, still unwilling to bid him farewell.

Instead, you turned to Amaire, starting to thank them for all their help and support, and by the time you glanced back to where Marcus stood, he’d already left.

#marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x female reader #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes fic #we can be heroes au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories #superhero stories

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lovelucybradford · 2 years

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Sometimes, It's the Words We Don't Say (That Get in the Way)

Guess who's back, back again... haha I missed writing for Chenford so much and am dying waiting so please enjoy this fic I wrote for 2 hours on my company's dime.

4x21 spec fic. Lucy realizes some things.

__________________________________________

Lucy blames the wedding crashers for putting the idea in her mind. If it weren’t for the arrest and the ensuing drama that came with it, if they never had to go into that damn church that gave her fairytale princess vibes, she and Tim would never have had the conversation that’s been replaying in her mind for the 20 minutes it’s taken for her to shower and change back into her civvies.

“Ok, even though the couple were total assholes, I can’t help but be jealous of their choice of venue. I mean, who had any idea that such a beautiful church existed in L.A.?” Lucy clasped her hands, temporarily lost in a daydream of the venue decked head to toe in wisteria like she’d gotten lost in a Jane Austen novel (or an episode of Bridgerton– she had to stop fantasizing about Rege-Jean Page).

Tim glanced at her briefly before bringing his eyes back to the road, his normal look of unimpressed disinterest clouding his features. “What? Already planning for your trip down the aisle with Sanford?”

Caught red-handed. Damn, when had this infuriating man begun to read her every thought? She tried to brush it off with a “No!” that came out a lot less casually than she would have liked. Judging by Tim’s small smirk and her quickly heating cheeks, Tim hadn’t fallen for it.

Lucy cleared her throat, and Tim’s smirk grew larger. She glared daggers at him before continuing, relieved that her voice seemed more nonchalant now. “No. I can’t see Chris and I being anything long term.”

Tim seemed surprised, but refused to look her in the eye. “So, Sanford’s not ‘The One’, huh?”

“No. And even if I did believe in bullshit like ‘The One’, he still wouldn’t be. He just… doesn’t get me.”

Tim blew out a breath. “Damn.”

“What? Was that harsh?”

“No. I just can’t believe Lucy ‘I Cry Watching Every Hallmark Movie Known to Man’ Chen doesn’t believe in ‘The One’.”

Lucy swiveled in her seat to face him, crossed arms reminiscent of a certain former-Training Officer’s signature stance. “I do not! And that’s not the point here–”

“Weren’t you and my sister crying on Facetime the other day over that one movie where the guy gives his lover’s daughter his heart?”

“That movie was so sad, Tim! He literally dies and his last gift of love to her was literally his life for her son’s! Like, imagine having that kind of love for someone.”

“And you said you don’t believe in ‘The One’,” Tim scoffed.

Lucy chose to ignore that. “Enough about me, what about you?”

Tim eyed her suspiciously, like she was about to get him to talk about feelings with her. Which was exactly what she was planning, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“What about me?”

“You and Ashley,” Lucy coaxed, but Tim still didn’t budge, keeping his lips tight, both literally and metaphorically.

“What about me and Ashley?” Tim gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and Lucy sensed she was heading into dangerous territory, but couldn’t help herself.

“Be honest: Can you see yourself married to her?”

Tim stayed silent for so long, Lucy thought for sure he wasn’t going to answer her probing question.

Then, “I can.”

She bit her lip, absolutely stunned at the sensations overwhelming her: the pang of hurt that coursed through her body, the familiar sting of unshed tears behind her eyes.

Why was she so distressed at the thought of Tim getting married to Ashley? He was her best friend. She wanted him to be happy. And if Ashley made Tim happy, then she would be happy for them… wouldn’t she?

Wouldn’t she?

She’d spent the better part of that 20 minutes trying to psycho-analyze herself, and so far her findings had been inconclusive.

Was it that she was jealous, that she wanted what Tim and Ashley had, Lucy asked herself? Not really. She’s content with Chris (at least she thinks so).

Was it that she worried Tim would focus all his attention on their relationship and not his friendship with Lucy? No, even when he was with Isabel, he was always invested in his friendship with Lopez and Bishop.

It has to be something else, something that she can’t decipher, can’t wrap her head around.

Taking the stairs to the lobby two at a time, Lucy turns the thought around in her consciousness once again, hoping that she’d missed something in her earlier probing. As she reaches the landing, her eyes catch on a scene playing out in front of the station’s entrance.

She knows she should stop staring; that it’s rude, invasive. Tim’s always been one for privacy and this is sure as hell a private moment. But she can’t.

She sees it all in slow motion.

Him dropping down to one knee.

Ashley’s hand moving to cover her mouth in surprise.

Her enthusiastic nod.

His beaming smile, one that shines brighter than she’d seen on him in a long time.

Sealing the proposal with a kiss, an acceptance to a forever with Tim Bradford.

And suddenly, suddenly, it all makes sense…

The warm and unfamiliar (but not unwelcome) sensation she’d felt in Tim’s arms all those months ago that she’d just chalked up to grief over Jackson’s murder.

The way her heart absolutely broke when Tim had his final confrontation with her father, how she would have done anything to take away his pain.

The absolute schoolgirl giddiness that consumed her during their long-overdue dance at Nyla’s wedding reception.

The impending tears and sharp stab of real, visceral pain in her chest when Tim said he could see herself marrying Ashley. That had nothing on this, right now.

The emotions come flooding down on Lucy like a heavy monsoon rain.

First, anger. How dare he make such a rash decision, especially one that has lasting consequences!

Then, disbelief. Is this really happening right now?

And then, the strongest sensation she’s felt in her nearly thirty years of life: an incredible, heart-wrenching sadness. She swears she can hear her heart breaking into a million pieces.

Lucy’s never been that girl, the one that loses it over a guy like Elle Woods post-Warner breakup.

But then again, Tim Bradford isn’t just a guy.

Tim Bradford is…

What is Tim Bradford?

A hard-ass who needs to learn to have fun every once in a while, yes.

But he’s also sweet, strong, disciplined, compassionate, loyal to a fault…

Indescribable.

Indescribable aside from one word that she’s managed to keep in the dark all this time.

Tim Bradford is… the love of Lucy Chen’s life.

How could she have been so blind? Wasn’t it there all along? The comforting sensation that he’d always be there to have her back, the feeling of home she’d get when she was near him, the last thought in her mind before she’d died in that barrel and the first thought when she’d been revived.

Tim Bradford had Lucy’s whole heart, and he had for a while now. Maybe even since that first day, when he’d made her get out and walk.

Tim had Lucy’s whole heart, and Tim’s… belonged to another. Forever.

God, she’s going to be sick. She retches, reaching for the railing of the stairs just to keep her upright.

Except she never gets to hold on to that railing to keep her afloat. Instead, she’s jolted and disoriented, surrounded not by the lobby of the Mid-Wilshire station, but of complete and total darkness.

Lucy grips the ground beneath her, clasping soft, silky fabric tightly in her white-knuckled hands, and she knows she’s not in the Mid-Wilshire station, or even in a barrel in the middle of the desert, but safe and sound in the comfort of her own bed.

Had it all been a dream? Is there still a chance for them?

It’ll make their life difficult, sure. The paper work from IAB, the knowing glances from her colleagues, the knowledge that she’ll have to prove herself even more that she’d gotten so far by being good at her job, not sleeping with her superior.

Lucy can live with that.

The alternative, however.

In no universe could Lucy Chen live without Tim Bradford.

So without second thought, she reaches for her phone and dials the one number she knows by heart.

He picks up on the second ring, his gruff, sleep-laced voice sending her heart racing with anxiety and anticipation.

“Lucy? It’s… 2:19 AM. Are you ok?”

She can hear rustling in the background, as if he’s already out of bed and throwing on something to make himself presentable, and God, it only makes her love him more, if that’s even possible.

She has to do it. And so, in Lucy Chen fashion, she dives right in. But somehow, she knows she won’t drown, that Tim will be there to hold her up.

“Tim,” she breathes, “I have to tell you something, before it’s too late.”

#chenford #chenford fic #lucy chen #tim bradford

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phoebosacerales · 1 year

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BTW i just spent 4 hours comparing charts between various house system and the results are inconclusive 🥺 if i may ask one last question whats your opinion on whole house and what system do you use haha

I use whole sign houses because it gives me less headaches, and because I still consider myself a beginner and it's easier, because I havent had much practice with reading for other people, I just study a lot. But I like Alcabitius as well. I watched Luis Ribeiro's classes on the reasoning and the methods of calculation for the quadrant houses and Alcabitius is simply the one which I like the best. Quadrant houses are more realistic in the way they represent the visible sky and this has always been a very important thing to consider. The signification given to everything in astrology has always been derived from how things actually look like. I always recomend learning astrology while looking at the sky. Stellarium is a good app to have as an astrologer. But Whole signs is still something you have to keep in mind even when you read using other systems. I use rulership of houses only by whole signs for example, and then the MC and IC are things of their own and they also indicate the angularity and strength of the planets. If I use Alcabitius and I see that someone has a planet on the 3rd sign from the asc but it's in the 2nd house, I would read it differently. I'd say that somehow in some small way that planet has some part in that person's finances as well, but especially I'd say that planet isn't really cadent or weak just because it's in the 3rd sign.

If you want to use whole signs, just stick with it for a while. If you want to use quadrant houses but doesnt know which one to use, just pick one and stick with it, maybe choose the one with a name you think sounds best, whatever. But stick with one and don't worry too much to find out which one is 'right', or you'll be having to many headaches. Sometimes If I'm studying a technique by an astrologer who used Porphyry then I use Porpyrhy, I just trust it and go. Some things in divination just have to be trusted. Astrology is very mercurial and makes us think too much, but if you don't know when to just trust things and not analyze all the time, you'll go nowhere.

#house systems #whole sign #alcabitius #answered

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lualewis · 9 months

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New profile ans I'm back to my old antics jumping into the pro/anti rabbit hole!

For anyone who can't tell, I am pretty proship. And jumping back into the rabbit hole has given me thoughts to share. To my currently 2 followers, I know you're not surprised and it will happen again!!! Eventually, when adhd allows is. Also @lightningstarborne you should get the other sibling to follow me as well so I can yell at 3 people along with the void.

Gonna be talking about the classic "fiction does/doesn't affect reality" cause it's one of the biggest arguing points with probably the most nuance.

Fiction can affect reality, but it is not in a perfect 1:1 ratio, and it usually happens in ways people don't expect. The Tetris and Jaws effects are both real, shark hunting and a fear of sharks was increased by a movie and after playing too much Tetris can make people start viewing things like pieces to be fit together until they stop for a bit.

Well let's think about those (admittedly I have seen 3 shark/underwater horror movies in 2 days and wsnt to share) starting with Jaws. The movie claims that maneating sharks are rare, especially ones of the size they had. It also pointed out how the shark was a natural part of the ocean even if it was dangerous. But people only picked up on the killer shark part. You know what parts of the movie focused on a lot more? A town focusing on making money during a holiday weekend more than caring about the safety of the people. There are arguments on screen about whether to close the beach for safety or keep it open for tourism. The movie blatantly points out how politics will bowl over things like safety until multiple people are dead. But that is not something brought up often. There are similarities with "The Meg" but those focus more on environmentalism and how a change can be disastrous. Yet people still focus on the big deadly shark aspect.

None of that is a 1:1 effect on reality. Jaws caused more people to be scared of sharks, and more people to hunt and kill them despite how low the death rate to sharks actually is. Less than 10 people die by shark per year, but across 4 Jaws movies 18 people died. Nobody was really effected by the explicit rarity mentioned in the movie, and most people don't even remember the politics mentioned. If that movie had a 1:1 effect, how did so much of the movie get overlooked?

The tetris effect is super interesting because it can happen with something as insignificant as a chessboard. Play too much checkers or chess, practice or think about the game too often? Now you're seeing images of it when you close your eyes, when things line up like the game you think of moving pieces like you would in a match? Those are tetris effects symptoms. It's been seen in people who speed solve Rubik's Cubes. With tetris, you think of fitting boxes together or of seeing them fall into place, or visualize a boarder and see pieces when you close your eyes. Being personal again, if I work security for too long and see thousands of people walking around for hours, I'll still see crowds walking around when my eyes are closed for about 2 days after. This is some kind of fiction effecting reality, but is also something that can happen with pretty much anything. See a meteor one night and think "where's the spaceship" cause you've played too many games and you've been effected in a tetris effect way. But, while these are distracting and maybe a little dangerous because of it, they're all super simple and things you can snap yourself out of with just a "wtf, I'm not playing my game" type thing. There is absolutely an effect on reality, but the extent is immediately thinking a response you would do in the thing you have literally just spent hours (minimum) doing and visualizing game elements and random times.

Violent video games are also brought up a lot. Studies are mostly inconclusive and don't always scale for competitiveness or types of violence. It's known tnag they can have an effect and for some people that is stronger. However, game companies and policies similar to movie ratings attempt to motigate this by giving age ratings. As you age, you decelope more of an awareness of reality being separate from fiction, and age ratings are a response to that. This is a part that I think is overlooked a lot. With violent video game debates, and arguments on how to age restrict some games and movies and TV shows, those age ratings are meant to be a guide for how well someone can understand and handle the content. That to some extent includes how well someone can separate fiction and reality. Using a personal example (again) my twin and I are 12 years older than our younger sisters. When my twin and I were 14, we started watching the It miniseries. My twin one day decided to rewaych it while babysitting the then 2 year old younger siblings. One of them ended up afraid of the curtains in our house because of the opening acene; being 2 she couldn't separate reality while my twin being 14 knew it was all fake.

Thats why we apart to explore darker topics, in media and our own imagination, as we age. We can understand that it is 100% not real, while still thinking about ourselves or someone else in a terrible situation. We can think about how we'd react emotionally, the actions we'd take, how everything would play out, while knowing it's not real. All media does this in some way, but I think written media can be the most intense. There is more detail laid out or explained, we can have context going back decades into the characters lives, and so many writers will change the prosody of their writing just to draw you in more. The emotions you feel, no matter what genre story you are using to feel them, are real, they are fiction effecting reality. It can be standard housewife porn that you are reacting to, or some weird violent thing on ao3, or something gross and intense in disturbing ways, and you will have a very real emotional reaction. But that doesn't mean it's effecting you in a way that will make you recreate it. Housewife porn has been around forever but that doesn't mean women are going around and immediately reenacting those books. Saying that fanfiction is going to cause people to do terrible things ignores the entirety of the history of literature and people having taboo books well before the internet got big.

There is so much nuance. Something making you go "ew" doesn't mean it's immediately the worst thing ever. Especially on the internet where you can (to some extent (fucking corporations)) curate your own experience. If you don't like a blog, stop following them or block them. Don't like a story on ao3; close it and put the tags in your exclusion list.

#proship #thoughts #ao3

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allsadnshit · 1 year

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hi izzy im 22 and i have a family history of endo and have been experiencing frightening symptoms and i dont really know who else to talk to in this regard and i hope this isnt rude to send. i am just curious how u went about getting ur diagnosis and what u think are some good first steps for someone experiencing these things. my mom spent a lot of time on a lot of endless painkillers as i was growing up. and im very afraid of reproductive care bc of how archaic it is! love you thank you <3 theres no need to answer if u feel this is too invasive, i appreciate ur time

It's honestly a head start that you already know you have a family history of endo! Although diagnosis is still difficult to get considering surgery is the only official way to get one...you're honestly much more likely to be recommended a surgeon etc if you have your families medical records with it! So that's really good!

Unfortunately I will say for myself and the people I know personally with endo, getting excision surgery wasn't a relief for symptoms as it has often been advertised for some people, so in terms of pain management I don't want to be getting more surgeries myself so I wouldn't tell anyone else too either! That's a pretty personal choice considering risks and recovery, so you will have to think on that pretty seriously if you think excision could help you and make sure you are looking into what the hospitals near you offer.

For myself, diagnosis was really important since I don't have my moms medical records to assist me with understanding my health. I don't think I could be where I am at recovery, management, or socially without having the official diagnosis from laparoscopy so that was really important to me, even though diagnosis didn't do anything for me in terms in qualifying for disability or anything like that! Unfortunately with the medical system you need that paper trail if you plan to do anything in the hospital system in the future, so I am ultimately glad I got my diagnosis even though it hasn't changed things for me in terms of lifestyle or pain.

If you want to start with an obgyn, that's what most people do! And they probably won't let you talk to a specialist before you rule out the basics with getting scans and blood tests first to confirm they can't more easily see why you are in so much pain. But even if your obgyn doesn't help you, you can at least search for a surgeon after that initial intake process being able to say "I already had tests and scans done, it was inconclusive, so I need to move towards surgery for diagnosis".

Obviously I won't have a solution or answer for the broader scope of what to do because even if you do have endo, it's dynamic and can affect people so differently that it really isn't a one size fits all. If anything, I really really do NOT recommend going on any form of hormone or birth control for pain management no matter how hard it's pushed on you. I really don't believe in that method and it's another way to cover up symptoms rather than getting to the root of healing or understanding.

The biggest changes for me have come with lifestyle: changing my diet to healthier less processed options which means not eating out 90% of the time and cooking with really good quality ingredients, getting a nutritionalist who's worked with endo before, cutting back on manual labor working hours, and processing the trauma of chronic illness in therapy and pin pointing places in my life that need my attention or serious over haul for me to rebalance my stress. Stress and endo are soooo tied together because it's hormone effected so it absolutely cannot be overlooked.

Sorry to hear you are suffering in this way! I no longer take any pain medication because of a similar fear. I recommend tiger balm muscle rub lotion on your lower back, getsomedays cramp cream on your front, and a hot rice heating pad on top for pain relief + drink water + sleep well at all costs. It's a marathon not a race!

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theapprenticeofthanatos · 1 year

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TAoT: Chapter 32: Kindred Spirits Part 1

Vlad POV:

“File 10406-VM.” A video file of Daniel and Valerie fighting one another appeared on the large holoscreen in front of him. “Stop.” The video paused on a closeup of Daniel flying with his tail. “Analysis.” Various readouts popped up around the frozen frame, which Vlad merely skimmed over before going to the next video.

“File 10406-VX.” An up-close shot of Daniel in combat. “Analysis.” More pop-ups appeared, containing graphs of data that Vlad had already spent hours looking over.

“File 1874-MI. Analysis. File 2416-SM. Stop. File 3299-IM. Stop. Analysis.”

The holoscreen now covered in various pictures, videos, and scientific data, Vlad leaned back against his worktable. He glanced lazily over the information—he’d seen it all far too many times for his liking—and drawled: “Conclusion?”

A green loading bar appeared in the center of the screen, and Vlad took the brief moment of downtime to let out a heavy sigh. He dragged his hand over his tired eyes as his mind wandered back to almost two weeks ago, when he had been searching for Daniel after the teen’s mysterious “trip.”

For the last couple of days, Vlad had spent his time staking out all the bus stations and airports within a 200-mile radius of Amity Park, searching for Daniel Fenton. The young halfa had mentioned an upcoming trip during their encounter a few days earlier, but Vlad hadn’t been able to get anything else out of him before he had disappeared.

The young halfa rarely left Amity Park for more than a day, but Daniel had been missing for an entire week. Obviously, Vlad was concerned—he considered Daniel as his own son, after all. Vlad had paid Skulker well to find Daniel and report back to him, but the ghost had never returned. Typical. One should never trust others to get the work done.

So that Monday, Vlad found himself at yet another airport, flitting invisibly between the different terminals and glancing through the airplanes as they landed. He had just been about to check the latest plane arrival when all of a sudden, the air around him turned frigid and he felt a hand grab his shoulder. An almost overwhelming sense of dread washed over Vlad as he turned around and came face-to-face with what could only be described as an angel of death.

Vlad tried to phase out of the being’s grasp, but found to his surprise (and dismay) that he could not. The other leaned in, their expression cold and displeased.

“You will leave Daniel alone, Vladimir Masters.” The angel’s golden eyes glowed with such an intensity that Vlad was certain it could see into his very soul. “Or there will be consequences.”

Vlad couldn’t speak—something about this entity made it difficult to do so. Their golden eyes bore into Vlad’s blood-red ones for several long, agonizing seconds before they released their grip on Vlad.

“Leave. Now.” They commanded.

Vlad didn’t need to be told twice. He disappeared in a cloud of magenta smoke, eager to get away from that airport as quickly as possible. And as soon as he got home, Vlad began his research on angels of death, and ancient beings that dwelled within the Ghost Zone.

His research had yielded very little information about the being Vlad had encountered beyond its title: Lord Death. It seemed the denizens of the Ghost Zone were afraid to say anything about the being, and as such frustratingly little had been written. What his research did reveal, however, was secrets—spells and wards and other things that one could use to hide themself from the Ancients of the Ghost Zone.

His musings were interrupted when the face of his Maddie program popped up on the screen. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” her robotic voice crooned. “Inconclusive data. Experiment cannot be completed without mid-morph sample.”

Vlad scowled. “The equipment I gave to Valerie to fight ghosts has been monitoring Daniel for months, yet I’m still missing the one piece I need!”

Well, it seemed he would just have to get the missing piece right from the source. And if that Ancient tried to interfere… Well, Vlad had found ways to deal with Ancients.

He snapped his fingers and four pods opened behind him. Without turning around, Vlad spoke to the failed clones. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, Father,” three voices intoned before their owners flew off.

Vlad smirked. Oh, how he loved to hear that word. Now, if he could only…

A boot scuffed against the floor.

Vlad fought the urge to sigh. He should have known that she was still there. Plastering on his kindest smile, Vlad turned around to see that, yes, Danielle had indeed stuck around. She had been his closest success, but she still wasn’t what Vlad wanted.

“Yes, Danielle? Did you need something?” He asked kindly.

Danielle shuffled her feet, gaze locked firmly on the floor. “Um… I… don’t…”

“Speak up. And stand up straight, dear,” Vlad scolded. “Proper ladies don’t mumble or slouch.”

“Sorry, Father,” Danielle said, immediately correcting her posture. “How’s this?”

“Much better, my dear,” Vlad commended. Danielle’s eyes lit up at the praise. “Now, what did you need?”

Danielle’s gaze dropped once again to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Vlad smiled at her, though the look never reached his eyes. “Do not worry, my dear. I have just the mission for you.”

Danny POV:

Danny flopped onto his bed late that Saturday night with a loud groan as he returned to his human form. He had just gotten back from another training session with Thanatos (they had practiced shadow-travel again), and he was exhausted. Who knew being Death’s apprentice would be so much work? Danny hardly had time outside of school, hero work, and training to hang out with his friends. Heck, he barely had time to sleep! And his busy schedule was beginning to take a toll on his friendships. He felt bad constantly letting them down, but… he just didn’t have time…

What is an apprentice, anyway? Danny wondered to himself. Is it like an intern? Don’t interns get paid? He sighed as he silenced his phone and closed his eyes. Maybe he could ask Thanatos about that the next time he saw him…

~~~

Danny was eventually woken by the sunlight filtering in through his curtains. He grumbled as he rolled over and pulled the comforter over his eyes. It was too early for the sun to be up…

Wait.

Danny snatched his phone off the nightstand, and the first thing he saw was his missed alarm: mini-golf with Sam and Tuck—10:00 A.M.

Crap!

After passing his makeup CAT exam, he had made plans with his friends to go celebrate. And he was late. He cursed under his breath as he leapt out of bed—his friends were going to kill him. Well, Sam was, anyway.

~~~

Danny found his friends at the 18th hole of the golf course. Tucker was up to putt while Sam stood behind him, glaring. Danny hoped it wasn’t because of him. He watched invisibly from overhead, before a mischievous idea entered his mind and he decided to enact it.

“It’s the eighteenth hole, Sam,” Tucker said as he readied his stance. “I beat you here, I win.”

Sam scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Taking a moment to steady his arms, Tucker took a deep breath and swung.

And his putter went right through the ball.

Tucker gasped, startled. “Wha?”

Sam caught on quickly, and she smirked. “That’s one.”

Annoyed, Tucker swung again. And… missed?

“And two.”

Tucker growled and swung again, and again, his frustration growing with each swing.

Sam only looked more and more pleased as she counted off his attempts. “Three. Four. And five.” She gave Tucker a frustratingly smug grin. “Ha!”

Tucker looked ready to throw his putter, and he grumbled angrily under his breath as he bent down to pick up the ball. Which passed right through his fingers.

Before Tucker could react, Danny popped up out of the ground like a meerkat. “Boo!”

“AHH!” Tucker yelped and recoiled in fear, before scowling as he finally realized who had been messing with him. “Danny, knock it off!”

Sam nodded in agreement as she folded her arms. “Yeah, you were supposed to be here an hour ago.” She then turned and smirked at Tucker. “By the way, that still counts.”

Danny winced and quickly dipped back into the ground, leaving the golf ball behind, and flew behind some conveniently placed rocks to transform.

“Sorry I was late,” Danny said as he stepped out, now human. He scrambled for an excuse that would get him back in his friends’ good graces. “But, uhh, you’ll be happy to know that the Ghost King… won’t… be…” He trailed off at the completely and utterly unimpressed looks on his friend’s faces. “… okay, I overslept,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Seriously?” Sam scoffed incredulously. “Danny, what’s gotten into you?”

“Yeah!” Tucker agreed. “Lately, you’ve been blowing us off all the time!”

“I’m sorry,” Danny stressed. “Really! I’m just so busy with school, and my apprenticeship, and fighting ghosts all the time that when I finally get some time to myself, I’m dead on my feet! Uhh, pun not intended.” He dragged his hand down his face and sighed. “I have a lot on my plate, okay?”

“You should’ve just talked to us,” Sam pointed out, disappointment written across her face. “We’re your friends. We would’ve let you sleep in.”

Tucker nodded. “And why don’t you, like, talk to your mentor? See if he’ll give you a day off to hang out with us once in a while.”

“I mean… I dunno…” Danny scuffed his foot against the turf. “I just… don’t wanna let anyone down.”

“Well, Danny, you’re kind of letting us down,” Sam pointed out quietly.

Danny’s gaze fell to his feet as his shoulders sank. He knew Sam didn’t intend to hurt him, but the words still stung. And he also knew that she was right. He didn’t know what to say, but as he opened his mouth to come up with something, his ghost sense went off.

Perfect timing, he thought sourly. “Sorry, guys.” He avoided their gazes as he turned away and transformed back to his ghost form. “Gotta go.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Sam muttered scornfully.

Danny winced at the hurt he could hear in her voice, but he didn’t stick around. Instead, he flew off in the direction of screaming citizens and destruction, hoping he could get this fight done and over with so he could get back to Sam and Tucker. He wanted to hang out with his friends—really, he did—but dealing with ghosts came first. They understood that, right?

Danny found the rogue ghost terrorizing mini-golfers at the lighthouse hole. The people were screaming bloody murder as they ran frantically from the… bedsheet ghost? Seriously? That was, like, the most cliché ghost stereotype ever. Were all the good ideas taken? Well, there is a Box Ghost…

Anyway, cliché or not, Danny still had a job to do.

The ghost looked up just as Danny crashed into it. It thrashed around in Danny’s grasp, but he managed to hold onto it long enough to slam it into the miniature lighthouse, breaking through the brick wall on impact. He had hoped to stun the specter, but it immediately grabbed Danny in turn and threw him back out of the hole in the wall and onto the ground below.

Danny glared up at the bedsheet ghost—he did not have time for this today, dang it—before launching himself back at the offending spirit. They exchanged blows, choosing to use fists over ecto-rays. Danny managed to land each hit with brutal efficiency (thank you, Ares cabin), and with a solid punch to the ghost’s jaw, he sent it flying back down to earth, where it crashed into the base of the miniature clock tower.

“Seriously?” Danny asked, chuckling as he landed in front of the defeated ghost. “A bedsheet? That’s the best you’ve got?” He grabbed the white blanket and pulled. “What have you got under there?”

But as the sheet fell away, Danny immediately regretted his decision.

Beneath the white cloth was the upper half of a charred humanoid skeleton. Below its ribcage, where it should have had legs, the spine trailed off into something like a tail. The ghost glared up at him with its blood-red eyes and snarled, revealing short, jagged teeth. It lunged at him, and Danny, still stunned, was easily knocked down and pinned to the ground.

“Chaaange baaack!” the ghost commanded in a warbling, haunting voice that sent chills down Danny’s spine.

As Danny had no idea what the ghost was talking about and had no desire to obey it, he chose to respond by kicking it firmly in the chest. The ghost was launched backwards and struck the ground a few yards away. Annoyed, Danny quickly got to his feet and immediately began charging up on ecto-blast in his palm.

The ghost writhed around like a fish out of water before its gaze landed on Danny, and it charged towards him with a guttural hiss. Danny raised his hand, and released the energy just before the ghost reached him.

A wide beam of ecto-energy erupted from Danny’s palm, completely engulfing the skeleton ghost. Danny was pushed back a couple of inches from the sheer force of his ecto-ray, and he wasn’t able to keep the blast up for more than a few seconds, but it was enough.

The light faded, and Danny saw that the ghost was no more; it had completely burned up in the blast. Not even its ashes remained. And that didn’t sit right with Danny. He had expected to find the ghost thoroughly beaten and ready for the thermos. He had never destroyed a ghost before. Unbidden, a memory came to his mind. A memory of the ghosts he had met back in the future—the ones he had left unconscious and barely in one piece—

Danny shook his head. Nope. He wasn’t going to think about that. He needed to finish up here.

But as Danny looked around the immediate area, he realized in growing horror that he had caused far more damage than he had intended. The mini-golf course’s clock tower was completely destroyed, and the windmill wasn’t in much better condition; it was barely still standing. The ground directly in front of Danny had been torn up like a tornado had come through, and its path extended far past where the ghost—and the clock tower—had once stood.

In short, the area had been utterly destroyed.

Danny grimaced. Maybe he should stay and fix it? No, no, he couldn’t fix it. He didn’t know how. And if he stayed, then it was likely that ghost hunters like Valerie would show up. Or worse, his parents. And he didn’t need them destroying the mini-golf course any further. Sam and Tucker would be fine. They were just bystanders, after all.

And so, Danny fled, leaving a huge mess in his wake.

~~~

As Danny was flying home, his phone rang. He pulled it out and answered, already having a good idea of who was on the other end.

“Danny!”

Yep. It was Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” Danny greeted timidly.

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Sam’ me, Fenton!” Sam shouted. “I will whoop your ectoplasmic butt, you hear me? Why did you leave?!”

“Yeah, dude, not cool,” Tucker piped up, also sounding rather upset.

“Look, guys, I’m sorry!” Danny said as Fenton Works came into view. “If I stuck around any longer, then my parents probably would’ve shown up looking for Phantom and made everything worse.”

“Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t get us out of cleaning up this golf course,” Tucker griped.

“And ‘sorry’ doesn’t clean it, either.” Sam snapped as Danny phased into his room and detransformed.

Danny winced. He had assumed—hoped, really—that his friends wouldn’t get caught up in the aftermath of his fight, but that just seemed to be their combined luck, didn’t it? He would have to make it up to them later. Somehow. When he had the time.

He sighed, his gaze trailing over the contents of his room as he listened to his friends complain. It was just as messy as he had left it. His bed was made, though. Maybe his mom had come in and tidied up while he was gone.

“I know, I know,” Danny groaned as he turned to the window, glancing down at the empty street below. “And I really appreciate you guys. But—”

Wait a minute.

The hair on Danny’s neck stood on end as he turned back around, and saw… a person sitting on his bed. A girl. She was about his height, but he couldn’t tell much else. He could only see her baggy clothes and black hair from behind the magazine that she was reading. His magazine, he realized.

“Uhh…” Danny began hesitantly, feeling rather wary of the newcomer. At least he had remembered to put a bandage over his mark before leaving that morning. “Can I… help you?”

“YES!” Sam shouted over the phone.

“No, not you!” Danny snapped at her, faltering as he glanced at the intruder again. “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

“Of course you do,” Sam retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Danny hung up, shoving his phone back in his pocket as he walked over to the foot of his bed. The girl, seemingly riveted by the old edition of Spaceport Magazine, paid him no attention.

Annoyed, Danny waved his arms wildly, trying to get her attention. “HELLO?!”

The girl huffed under her breath, scowling as she set the magazine down beside her. “Not so loud,” she grumbled as she met Danny’s gaze.

And Danny froze.

The girl had long, straight, jet black hair pulled back in a low ponytail and covered by a red knit beanie. Her skin was pale, her eyes an icy blue, and… for some reason, Danny felt like he had met her before.

His heart ached in his chest, and the feeling was shared mutually by his core. It wasn’t a painful ache. If anything, it felt like… longing? Like he just wanted to walk up to her and give her a hug, and forget all his worries while she hugged him back, and brushed his hair, and asked him about his day.

Danny’s brain short-circuited as the pure absurdity of what he had just thought hit him. What?

The stranger’s scowl had faded, and she gave him an easygoing, reassuring smile. The strange ache in his chest only increased tenfold. She just looked so… familiar.

So he asked her: “Have we… met before?”

That seemed to catch her off guard, and her smile faded into a look of confusion. “What? No. I’m, uhh…” There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before her smile quickly returned. “I’m your cousin, Danielle! Your… third cousin once removed?”

Danny raised an eyebrow in unimpressed disbelief as he folded his arms. “Uh huh.”

“Yeah…” The girl chuckled nervously as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I ran away from home.”

“Okay…” Danny said slowly, obviously not believing the girl’s claim. “And why did you come here? How do you even know who I am? Because I don’t know you.”

The stranger paled. “I-I just told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re cousins,” Danny emphasized the word with finger quotes. “But I’ve never heard of you. So, tell me…” He placed his hands on his hips and scowled. “How exactly are we related?”

Danny could practically see the girl’s thoughts racing behind her eyes as she scrambled for an answer. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Yet no words came out. Danny tapped his foot, his already threadbare patience only growing more thin.

The girl closed her mouth before opening it once more, but the sound that left her… came from her stomach. Danny gave her a questioning look, and she smiled sheepishly. “Do you have any food?”

Danny groaned. Fine. He could wait to question her. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Danielle eagerly hopped off the bed and followed him out of the room.

Danny caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hallway mirror as they walked past it, and as he looked more closely he paused. Seeing himself side by side with Danielle, he realized that the two of them looked similar. Really similar. Their hair, their eyes, their noses… even their heights and body types. If he didn’t know better, he could’ve easily mistaken the both of them for twins. Maybe that was why she looked so familiar to him?

His core buzzed sourly like a joybuzzer, as if in disagreement. But if that wasn’t it, then why…?

Danielle’s stomach growled again, and she whined impatiently. “I’m hungry. Food, please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny grumbled. “Come on.”

Danny led Danielle downstairs and into the kitchen. Once there, he flipped on the lights and gestured to the room. “Help yourself, I guess.”

Danielle didn’t move from where she stood behind him, and when Danny turned to look at her he saw that she was fidgeting. Danny frowned at her, and Danielle gave him a nervous smile. “Uhh, sorry! I, uhh… what is there to eat?”

“I mean… we’ve got plenty of food in the fridge.” Danny walked over to the refrigerator and pulled it open, glancing over the containers of leftovers and assorted cooking ingredients. “But, uhh… I’m not sure it’s safe for human consumption. I mean, I’m fine, but I’m pretty sure my body has adapted to the presence of ectoplasm in my food over the years.” He glanced over his shoulder at Danielle, who had wandered over to him and was now staring into the depths of the fridge like a child gazing through the window of a candy shop. “I don’t know if you should—”

Before Danny could finish speaking, Danielle ducked under his arm and practically dove head first into the open refrigerator. She snatched the closest thing to her—a Tupperware of leftover spaghetti from the night before—and ripped the lid off. She grabbed a fistful of cold, slimy, sauce-covered noodles and eagerly shoved them into her mouth.

“Woah!” Danny stepped back, eyes wide in alarm. “Dude, chill!”

Danielle looked up at him, her eyes looking like those of a confused puppy, and the spaghetti hanging from her lips making her look like a toddler at lunchtime. Danny grabbed her by the shoulders and directed her to the table. “At least sit down. I’ll grab you a fork. Sheesh.”

“A wha?” Danielle asked before promptly shoveling more noodles into her mouth, tomato sauce dripping onto the tile floor below.

Danny could barely hide his shiver of disgust. And Sam always says Tucker has no manners… “Just… sit down. Please.”

Danielle did as she was told, taking a seat at the table as she continued to eat. Danny shuddered once more before retrieving a fork from the silverware drawer. He walked back over to the table to see that most of the spaghetti in the container was already gone.

“Geez… you, uhh, must’ve been hungry,” Danny remarked as he set the fork down in front of Danielle.

Danielle only nodded eagerly in response since her mouth was full. Danny sat down across from her and watched her continue to shovel spaghetti into her mouth, completely ignoring the fork. Danny sighed but didn’t comment. He wasn’t one to judge someone else’s eating habits, especially when he considered who he was friends with.

“Got anything else to eat?” Danielle asked as she set down the now empty container.

Danny stared at the container in disbelief. It was licked clean! He looked up at the unfazed, petite girl in front of him and shook his head. “Uhh, sure?”

He got up from the table and walked back over to the fridge, opening it and considering what was left inside. Ecto-contaminated hotdogs, emergency ham, fudge, chicken casserole…

Danny grabbed the chicken casserole and turned back to Danielle. “Y’know, my dad likes to joke that the chicken casserole we have for dinner lays the eggs we had for breakfast!” Danny chuckled, before muttering under his breath, “I wish it was a joke.” He placed the container in front of Danielle and stepped back. “Bon appétit.”

Danny stared at Danielle in a mix between disbelief and horror as she leaned back in her chair and burped. She had eaten nearly everything in the fridge! It was honestly kind of impressive. And a bit scary. And I thought Tucker was a bottomless pit…

He glanced at the clock, quietly wondering when his parents would be home. They could help him figure out what to do with his newfound “cousin.”

As if right on cue, Danny heard the faint rumble of a car pulling into the driveway. Well, talk about convenient.

“Had enough to eat?” Danny asked.

Danielle smiled happily and nodded.

“Good.” Danny stood up and grabbed her wrist. “‘Cause it sounds like my parents just got home.”

“Hey!” Danielle squawked. “Let go!”

“C’mon,” Danny urged, pulling Danielle from her chair and starting towards the living room. “We can ask them about your parents, and—”

“I said let go!” Danielle shouted. She tore her wrist from Danny’s grasp and spun on her heel, sprinting back up the stairs to the second floor.

“Hey!” Danny shouted, following after her. “Get back here!”

But when he reached the foot of the stairs, he stopped. Danielle was nowhere in sight. There was no way she could’ve made it all the way up the stairs before he reached them, and he heard no noises coming from the second floor. He started up the steps, but hesitated as he heard the rattle of keys in the front door.

Where did she go?

Danny stepped back and peeked into the living room just as the front door opened, and his parents walked inside.

“Heyo, Danny-o!” Jack called cheerfully, holding a large cardboard box in his arms. “Your mother and I were out getting some new lab equipment. Beakers and flasks and whatnot, since I… may have broken a few the other day.”

“Don’t worry, Jack. It happens to the best of us,” Maddie assured him as they made their way into the kitchen. Jack moved to set the box on the table, but both parents paused when they saw the mess of dirty dishes on its surface.

“Oh! Did you have friends over, Danny?” Maddie asked as she walked around Jack and began gathering up the empty food containers.

“Uh… yeah…” Danny said slowly, hurrying to help his mother put all the dishes in the kitchen sink. “Sorry, they just left, so… I didn’t have time to clean up.”

“That’s fine, dear.” Maddie smiled at her son, walking over to the fridge as Jack set the box down on the newly clean table. “I’m glad the leftovers didn’t go to waste, but let me just see what’s left for dinner—” She pulled open the fridge and froze. “… Danny, why is the refrigerator practically empty?”

Whoops… “Uhh, ghosts…?” Danny supplied weakly, giving his parents a nervous smile. He hadn’t expected Danielle to be so… hungry.

It was clear that his mother didn’t believe him. “Danny, I know you’re a growing boy, but could you really not have waited until dinner time—”

“THOSE DARN GHOST RACCOONS!” Jack bellowed, cutting her off. “BACK AT IT AGAIN!” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, angrily ranting about how he was going to grab the Fenton Broom.

Maddie watched him go, before sighing tiredly and pulling out her phone. “Well, then… I guess I’ll order us a pizza for dinner, and go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“Sounds great,” Danny gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ll, uhh, be up in my room.”

And with that, Danny turned and ran up the stairs. Had Danielle gone back to his room? There was no way down to the street from there, so it wasn’t like she could have just disappeared, right?

Yet as he reached his open bedroom door and walked inside, it seemed that disappearing was exactly what Danielle had done.

Danny groaned in frustration. Where did she go?

He sighed and transformed, planning to search for her from the skies. She couldn’t have gotten too far, right? But as he wondered that, another thought came to his mind: had she seen him transform earlier, when he came home from the golf course? There was no way she hadn’t; he had transformed right in front of her. But she hadn’t said anything, so maybe, somehow, she hadn’t?

Danny shook his head, deciding that that wasn’t important right now. He needed to find Danielle first, and then he could worry about the rest. And with that thought, he flew out the window.

Danny wasn’t outside for more than two seconds before his ghost sense went off. He didn’t even have time to wonder what had triggered it as a roar sounded above him. Before Danny could even look up, something struck in the back of the head, sending him crashing so hard into the ground below that he left a crater in the concrete.

Danny shook his head and blinked in an attempt to clear the spots from his vision, groaning in pain as he looked up at whatever had just attacked him. Floating just outside his bedroom window was a ghost that Danny could only describe as Frankenstein’s long-lost twin.

At easily three times his size, the specter had muscles that Dash could only dream of, but that was the only part of its appearance that could be considered even somewhat flattering. Its skin was blotchy and gray and covered in stitches, like a well-loved patchwork quilt. It wore nothing more than a pair of tattered black pants, and broken shackles around its wrists and neck. The ghost bared its fangs at Danny as it growled, and from the state of its teeth Danny wondered if it ate rocks for breakfast.

Danny pushed himself up from the crater and glared right back at it. “Alright, Frankenstein. Show me what you’ve got!” He darted upwards, throwing his fist at the monstrous ghost’s face, but to his surprise the hulking beast caught it with ease.

Frankenstein—Danny had decided to call the ghost Frankenstein—roared and threw Danny back down into the road. The halfa landed with a pained grunt and rolled a few feet before crashing into the side of a parked car. Frankenstein landed in front of Danny with an enraged bellow, its feet cracking the concrete below.

Danny stood and took a deep breath; he wasn’t going to beat this ghost with strength, so maybe he could stun it instead with his Ghostly Wail.

But Frankenstein lunged forward with surprising speed, and clamped its big, grimy hand over Danny’s mouth. It lifted Danny into the air and drew its other hand back in a fist, ready to pummel him into nothing more than a pile of ecto-jelly. Danny pulled at the fingers around his jaw, trying to pry them away, when all of a sudden he heard an all too familiar voice.

“Hey!”

A few yards down the street stood Danielle, her fists clenched by her sides as she shouted at the gray ghost. “Leave him alone!”

Danny managed to pull away the fingers over his lips, and he was quick to shout back at the girl. “Get out of here!” Was she crazy?

Danielle scoffed incredulously. “Forget it! I know who you are, and I came a long way to find you.” Danielle widened her stance and raised her fists as a ring of white light formed around her waist.

No frickin’ way…

Danny could only watch in complete and utter disbelief as the ring split in two and traveled over Danielle’s body, transforming her right before his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Danielle was wearing a black, full-body jumpsuit with a white collar, belt, gloves, and boots, just like Danny’s. She even had the same logo on her chest.

Danielle brought her hands together, and ecto-energy flickered to life between them. She aimed at the gray ghost, and a large green beam shot from her palms, hitting the creature square in the chest. It staggered back and fell into the dented car, releasing Danny, who landed on his feet and immediately turned to look at Danielle.

“W-what? How—” Danny was interrupted by Frankenstein, who gave an enraged roar.

The two halfas turned just as Frankenstein launched itself up into the sky, and Danny narrowly darted out of the way as it came back down, slamming its fist into the road hard enough to send out a small shockwave. Danny spared a quick look at Danielle, questions racing through his frazzled mind.

Danielle looked back at him, her face set in a determined scowl. “Do you wanna ask questions, or do you wanna kick some butt?”

Before Danny could answer, Frankenstein lunged at them, its nails lengthening into long, razor-tipped claws. Danny and Danielle both stepped back, bracing themselves. Together they raised their hands and charged up dual ecto-blasts, and in sync they both fired. Their combined ecto-rays struck Frankenstein and exploded on impact, creating a cloud of green smoke that smelled like burnt, rotten flesh.

The cloud faded quickly, revealing the Frankenstein ghost standing as if it were frozen in place, with a new, gaping hole in the center of its chest. And then the ghost melted right before their eyes, into a goopy green puddle on the asphalt. Just like with the bedsheet ghost, there was nothing left for the thermos.

“That’s… weird,” Danny muttered, and he turned to look at Danielle. “And you—” Danny paused. Danielle was pale and sweaty, and looked like she was going to be sick. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Danielle blinked slowly as she registered the words. “O-oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Danny didn’t believe her one bit. “If you say so… But it’s time to head back inside. I have lots of questions—”

Danielle swayed, and Danny barely managed to catch her as her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

“Hey!” He shook her, but she didn’t stir. Great. She was unconscious, and Danny had no idea what in the world was going on. But it wasn’t like he could ask her now. “… okay. Fine. We can talk tomorrow.”

First: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 31

Next: Chapter 33

#danny phantom #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #dani phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #taot #the apprentice of thanatos #lotu #legacy of the underworld #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction

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wasatchmountaindogs · 2 years

Text

Foster Update:

I haven’t talked much about the fosters since week 3 because we lost 6 in about 72 hours. We spent hours at the vet. They donated their time & resources to us. They stayed late - sought answers and still haven’t given up on us - but we were hoping for a conclusive answer about weather or not we get to keep these three or not. And we just don’t know yet. The necropsy results are inconclusive. The symptoms are odd. Current suspicion is either herpes or a heart condition.

But Badger, Seal, and Turtle are all hanging around and causing chaos. They’re eating solids along with a couple of feedings by Ellie during the day & getting lots of adventure time outside and with objects & sounds. They love their teeter and wobble board. Seal likes outside more than the others. Seal is the softest and Turtle and Badger are feisty.

Ellie can climb out of tall xpens like it’s no big deal. But is no longer damaging doors when she is left alone in a room. So progress on containment 🤣. Her children also have marginal respect for barriers.

#fosters #ellie #seal #badger #turtle #tw #pet death

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axolotlclown · 14 days

Note

Would you happen to have some studies to back up the "more than one coffee means you're addicted" thing, please? Pretty sure I've seen that disproven as a lens to understand addiction through at all

~ 🪴

Hey! So sorry I never saw this anon. It never appeared in my notifs and I'm really bad about checking my askbox.

You have asked a question that falls in line with a field I am very passionate about! I found some interesting articles in my school library. I'm going to go ahead and write this response, but I'm still waiting on access to a few journals. I'll have to convert those ones to PDFs as they are likely behind paywalls.

Anyway, here's my long post where I intend to rant about a lot of different barely related topics. Caffeine addiction is one of those really controversial but historically significant subjects in psychology!

So let me start off with how to read and break down a journal. It's one of those things where if you don't go to college and specifically major in a research related field, no one ever teaches you how to do it. That sucks.

So when you're looking at a journal, the first thing you want to do is background check the author. What school did they go to? What degrees do they have? (For research, they should have a Ph.D. no matter what.) What is their current place of employment?

Often companies, or other private businesses, will commission someone to do some research and fudge the results to make that company look better. We saw this recently in regards to gender affirming care. The United States House of Representatives had proposed legislation to restrict gender affirming care for transgender youth. The Republican sponsor of the bill had presented a single piece of research that he claimed was significant. The research found that transition regret rates were somewhere in the 30% range. (I don't remember exactly and I know that I could quickly look it up, but I just spent the past two hours reading addiction research. I'll find it tomorrow.) Upon looking into the author and the sponsors of this research, psychologists found that the journal the congressman presented was commissioned by a conversation therapy center in Florida. The research held obvious bias, poor peer review, and inconclusive results. The bill didn't pass. I'm not sure they even voted on it, actually.

Anyway, this is why we need to be critical of the research we read. Chocolate, wine, caffeine, gender dysphoria, and autism are notorious subjects that require more scrutiny before reading.

So, caffeine addiction. This is a subject that more than one field is interested in. Before you read an article, you need to be sure what question you are asking. Psychologists are concerned with a more scientific or factual approach. In this context, a psychologist would be researching the concrete effects of caffeine on mood, sleep, and other psychological disorders. Sociologists are more concerned with the overall social consequences of caffeine addiction. They would be asking how mood and sleep affected family, work, and personal welfare. For your question, we're going to look into the psychological aspect. Also, I'm studying psychology, not sociology, so I would feel like an idiot answering those types of questions.

This distinction matters. When I opened my school's EBSCOHost database, I simply typed in "caffeine addiction" to start. I was bombarded with sociological articles and journals about the affects of caffeine addiction on productivity at work and on mood. Strange overlap with psychology. Two problems: some of the top articles had researchers with ties to coffee companies, and all "caffeine addicts" were self-reported. For the latter, this meant that there was no standard for how much caffeine was consumed. Rather than being a concrete article about caffeine consumption, it was more of a survey of public opinion. You want to avoid those unless you specifically want to know about the public opinion. Even psychologists run surveys all the time (they're cheap and easy), but people often lie on surveys, even if they're anonymous.

So I typed in more specific key words and came up with these articles. I'll talk about some without leaving a link, but that's because I had to request the PDFs for sharing. I'll come back to this post and link them. (Let me know if the ones I do link are broken.)

Okay, so I'm going to start off with a journal that interested me, personally. This study actually observed the effects of caffeine on psychiatric patients. This is an important reminder that different drugs influence different brains. Someone with ADHD experiences caffeine differently for a neurotypical person. Caffeine is a stimulant, and ADHD medications are stimulants. Cool. What about other disorders?

Here's the Sparknotes of the study, "Caffeine intoxication was more prevalent in psychiatric patients than in healthy subjects. The amount of caffeine intake was shown to be associated positively with the severity of pathology and inversely with sleep quality."

The study goes more into depth about the different psychological disorders that different patients had. There were 401 patients participating in this study (150 healthy individuals). Overall, continuous caffeine intake showed a decline in sleep quality and a general increase in severity of other mental illnesses.

So what causes that? What is caffeine? Here's an article that looks into studies about caffeine consumption and performance, as well as what the causes of an addiction could be and what constitutes an addiction. This is one I recommend giving a read, as it helps to illuminate a common problem with researching intoxicants.

Here's the big take away: "Although caffeine is widely perceived to have beneficial psychostimulant effects, appropriately controlled studies show that its apparent beneficial effects on performance and mood are almost wholly attributed to reversal of the withdrawal effects that occur after fairly short periods of abstinence (e.g. overnight)."

In habitual coffee users, the increase of mood and performance after consumption of caffeine is caused by the removal of withdrawal symptoms. Grouchy mood and lack of coordination are symptoms of caffeine withdrawal. Where one may perceive positive reinforcement for initial consumption, for habitual consumers, withdrawal symptoms become a negative reinforcement.

So, for people that drink coffee everyday, it's less about getting the positive effects of caffeine, but rather avoiding the negative effects of withdrawal. This can be classified as an addiction. There is now a reliance on this substance.

Something this article also points out is that caffeine is not just found in coffee. It's found in chocolate and most medications these days as well. Therefore, complete stone cold abstinence from caffeine can be next to impossible, making control groups difficult to find. This leads to the varying research and controversy between psychologists.

Okay, but coffee can't be as bad as alcohol or anything right? Caffeine is practically harmless! Let's take a look into an article discussing the health impacts of caffeine. (I'll provide the full text to this one tomorrow.)

In Dr. Saimaiti's article titled, "Dietary Sources, Health Benefits, and Risks of Caffeine," she explores the benefits of occasional consumption of caffeine and weighs them against habitual overconsumption of caffeine.

While occasional consumption can actually improve mood and cognitive ability, these benefits are lost with daily consumption.

Few people drink their coffee black. For those that put creamer, milk (especially oat), or straight sugar or syrups in their coffees daily, they may be overconsuming sugar. This is especially hard on an empty stomach. This is part of the reason you "crash" later in the day. The sugar raises your blood sugar. For most healthy people, this may not be the biggest deal in the world. For others, it could be a key factor in developing diabetes later in life. In general, don't drink coffee on an empty stomach. Have it with a meal. It's also easier on your liver.

Speaking of liver, what does your body do with the caffeine after you drink it? Caffeine follows the same principle as alcohol. Occasional consumption of red wine can help thin your blood and lower your hemoglobin (something that women may be more concerned about as they get older). However, daily consumption of wine can cause stress on the liver and potentially lead to dementia later in life (I say potentially because there has been a correlation, but no solid research as to why. While correlation does not always mean causation, it's important to acknowledge them in the meantime.)

Caffeine behaves in the same way. Continuous consumption of caffeine can put some real stress on your liver over time.

Caffeine is dangerous for those with cardiovascular problems. While this seems like a "duh!" point, many people don't know that they may be prone to cardiovascular issues until an event happens. This sounds like fear mongering, but it's something to take into account.

The article discusses pregnant women as well, but I would hope that's intuitive? Maybe not? If you're pregnant you should avoid intoxication in all forms.

I'll drop this quote from the conclusion of the article for now (I felt weird quoting text that you can't access yet, so I'll come back with more quotes when I can give you the PDF): "the long-term or over-consumption of caffeine can lead to addiction, insomnia, migraine, and other side effects."

The point is, caffeine consumption can be more dangerous to some than others in general, but excessive consumption with lack of knowledge can lead to long-term damage to one's health.

Okay, that study talks about a relatively small niche. Let's get broad. Let's talk about sleep and cognitive performance. (Another study I'll have the PDF for tomorrow.)

In Dr. Gottselig's article titled, "Random Number Generation During Sleep Deprivation: Effects of Caffeine on Response Maintenance and Stereotypy," she looks at the effects caffeine has on cognitive performance during sleep deprivation.

The conclusions of this research makes a very important point: "caffeine preserves simple aspects of cognitive performance during sleep deprivation, whereas caffeine may not prevent detrimental effects of sleep deprivation on some complex cognitive functions."

This article particularly found that while small cognitive functions such as motor ability improved with caffeine, complex cognitive functions such as problem solving and memory declined.

While a college student could read this and understand that pulling an all nighter and drinking 10 Red Bulls probably won't help them pass their test, there's something much more to be said about these findings.

One sleep deprived night won't kill you, and certainly drinking a cup of coffee to get you through the day won't either. But caffeine cannot prevent the damage that regular sleep deprivation does. Sleep deprivation leads to memory loss, worsening symptoms of depression/anxiety/ADHD, increased chances of developing dementia early (this one is real), and a decline in overall cognitive ability.

Rough. But it is a trap. If you have insomnia, caffeine may feel like your only choice to be somewhat functioning throughout the day. Caffeine promotes symptoms of insomnia. It's a vicious cycle if you can't afford proper treatment, and one, that I hope, that will be addressed with time.

So if you have the ability, it's better to prioritize a good night's sleep. I'll come back to this.

For now, why is caffeine addiction so controversial then? Well, it may not be for long. While there was a push to add "caffeine" to the list of diagnosable addiction in the DSM since the 1980's, the inconsistent and inconclusive research has led to a standstill. As we say with Dr. Jame's article, it is difficult to get a control group for caffeine. However, as research for alcohol and marijuana progresses, our knowledge of how to properly study intoxicants does as well.

The long-term health side effects of caffeine are still being studied as well. While this aspect isn't unique to caffeine at all (marijuana, for example, is just now getting approved for research, where before it was illegal), it's still worth acknowledging what we do know, for now at least.

So, coming back to the DSM. There's a new one coming out pretty soon. It's the talk of the town among psychologists right now. Everyone is arguing about what should be in the DSM-6. It'll be crazy when it does come out. Autism, OCD, Gender Dysphoria, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Facial Dysmorphia are just a few examples of disorders that will likely be completely recategorized.

(Unrelated, but Autism Spectrum Disorder is a big one because a lot of psychologists are arguing that it shouldn't be classified as a disorder at all. The reason being is that Autism is so common, that psychologists are theorizing that the majority of the population falls on the spectrum somewhere. Either way, the diagnosis is about to completely change because of this fact.) (Well, all of them are big ones. I could make a whole separate post about it.)

Anyway, the push to make caffeine diagnosable is becoming a promising endeavor as research continues to come out.

One psychiatrist pushing for this is Ronald Griffiths. In his opinion piece, Griffiths recalls his patients experiencing caffeine withdrawal symptoms that led to a decline in the quality of life. One of his patients was diagnosed with breast cancer and needed to stop drinking coffee immediately. This patient struggled with severe withdrawal symptoms that were difficult to manage while on cancer treatment.

Griffiths explains how difficult it was to treat this patient because it wasn't something he could easily diagnose with the DSM-5, something insurance companies use to decide whether they're going to pay for care or not. Add on the bills for cancer treatment, and you rapidly have a distressing situation on your hands.

Joseph DeRupo, spokesman for the National Coffee Association in the U.S. as quoted in this article states, "What we have here is really the opinion of one scientist who is a lone voice against the accepted view of the scientific community."

Lone voice? In barely an hour I was able to find 5 credible articles, all backed by credible researchers, supporting the understanding that American society consumes too much caffeine. You can take a General Psych class in college and the textbook would spend half a chapter going over caffeine addiction and the controversial research around it. Coffee companies piss me off. And most companies use slave labor to harvest their beans and lobby to prevent legislation to prevent it. Guillotine.

Griffiths also claims that "[e]ven people who consume as little as 100 milligrams of caffeine a day—the equivalent of one small cup of coffee—can become physically dependent."

So this ask is pretty old, but I'm guessing it was in response to me saying that you should only drink one cup of a random beverage a day and the rest be water. This keeps you hydrated and helps cut out where the majority of your sugar intake is. I called it the "desert beverage" and that "coffee counts."

It really does. In the morning, one feels tired, foggy, and grouchy. "Don't talk to me until I've had my morning coffee." They would make their coffee out of habit, barely minding the taste of it—drinking to medicate the headache they've already caused.

Life is worth celebrating, and if we can find little things in our day to celebrate, we should! When coffee becomes a habit, it's just a habit. That's sad.

I worked as a barista for a while at a coffee shop that hired people with intellectual disabilities. That experience is what made me switch my major to psychology in the first place. But I saw the joys coffee could bring, and the damage it can do, too. I had a coworker who would come in and throw a tantrum if we didn't immediately stop what we were doing and make him a coffee—and again in two hours before the end of his shift. It's upsetting.

I do remember the joys, too. Our manager would show us a new niche coffee drink from a random country. We would make cubanos like they would in Haiti and talk about the different names they had in different countries around the world. It ruled.

I don't drink coffee every day anymore. But it's always a wonderful thing when I do. You don't need to have an "excuse" to drink a cup of coffee—you don't need to celebrate anything at all. Coffee, tea, wine, soda, and juice should be celebrated as they are. Drinking them out of habit destroys joy. Intentional habits create stable foundations in life. Unintentional habits create monotony and boredom.

Anyway, the sleep thing I said I'd come back to. So if you're having trouble sleeping, here's the hot tip: avoid screens 30 minutes before going to bed. That sounds easy, but how many of us scroll our phones, watch TV, or play a video game right before bed? It's not worth it.

Instead, do something away from your phone that you enjoy. I like to read, but you can draw, journal, listen to some music, practice an instrument, or write something. Doesn't matter, just don't use your phone or laptop. Set a 30 minute timer for time.

If you're still struggling to sleep, you may find meditation useful. Meditation uses techniques that make your brain send beta waves which relaxes you and is the first step to falling asleep. But! If you try to learn some meditation, you'll have to commit to practicing it every night for it to be useful. It's a skill that requires practice.

Anyway, I could make a whole separate post about evening/morning/afternoon routines as that is another one of my passions, but yeah.

TLDR; An occasional cup of coffee is actually great and wonderful, but you really shouldn't drink it every day, especially more than once a day.

PS. I love Red Bull cream sodas more than the God that created them, I swear, but I only drink maybe one or two energy drinks a year. Energy drinks will dissolve your liver faster than hydrochloric acid can. An alcoholic drinking 5 packs of beers a day will look at your liver and be impressed. Also the Panera lemonade should be illegal. That shit is CRAZY. That bitch had more caffeine than a Bang energy drink. It literally killed a man. Wild.

#anon im gonna be so incredibly transparent #before you read this #i spent four and a half hours researching and putting this together #and i still gotta add more sources tomorrow after my school send the pdfs to me #so i didnt proof read it #im tired #i hope it makes enough sense #also sorry if it sounds like i mansplained in the beginning and end #i dont know who you are or what your background is #so i tried to cover my corners as much as i could #anyway #i got a little buddhist philosophy at the end there to #as a treat for me #i hope it doesnt sound preachy #i need a nap bro #sorry for taking so long to get to your ask #i never saw it until now #BUT #i hope it worked as a good starting point if you wanted to look into more #let me know if the links are fucked and ill try to fix them #asks of dante #thoughts of dante #ill tag your little emoji bc i figured that was purposeful #🪴

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