I have personally developed a distaste for the trope wherein anidala go incredibly public with their relationship - with big, tabloidy gossipy threads about their relationship - because this goes inherently against who anakin and padmé are as people, that is, intensely private
and as a private person myself, I think it is just distasteful to anidala and also unrealistic. why would the general galactic public care so much? and there is a wide spectrum between 'completely secret relationship' and 'tabloid fame'.
realistically, given that padmé is from naboo, they would know she is married, but her husband (as part of her family and the whole amidala/naberrie divide, the family privacy so integral to naboo's society), it's not a big deal, it's not tabloid fame, anakin quietly leaves the jedi order (also not the biggest fan of anakin being a galactically known jedi a la stover - known in the senate? sure! everyone in the galaxy idolises him? uh. no. hero with no fear can be fun and all though!).
anyway anidala deserve privacy in a fix it, and I personally find it more realistic and satisfying
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Sorry but I’m pretty sure this is a medical emergency”.
Seething under a Pit Rage green, that was Jason's only warning before some giant just shoved his bare hand through his chest to pin him up against the nearest building wall.
Or
Another Danny fixes Jason's Pit Madness/Sick Ghost Core Fic
And the inherent homoeroticism of impromptu soul surgery
Read more (long post)
Part 1
Bloodthirst pounded in his head and crooned like a siren, as rage frothed and boiled through his mind. Jason had deliberately left his guns behind. In this state he'd be liable to start a massacre. In this state he'd be liable to go off half-cocked to try to hunt the Joker to disastrous consequences. It was a relentless impulse. An obsession. Only white-knuckled discipline had him wrest control from the Pit Madness. But anything could trigger him at this point. He felt like a bomb liable detonate just from being looked at funny.
“Sorry but I’m pretty sure this is a medical emergency”.
Seething under a Pit Mad green, that was Jason's only warning before some giant just shoved his bare hand through his chest to pin him up against the nearest building wall.
He couldn’t breathe. Wide-eyed but unseeing, it wasn’t the pain of being stabbed but the shock of a sudden ice bath. Jason felt like his open, gaping heart was being soaked in searing frost.
“Easy, easy”, the giant soothed as if Jason was a spooked horse, and not his victim of a drive-by ice magic bullshit hand through chest impalement. Jason’s scrabbling flails to move the giant’s arm achieved nothing. The limb was tougher than steel, and utterly indifferent to his struggles.
Jason furiously kicked out. His legs somehow hit nothing but air despite the giant’s intimate proximity. Then the giant, with his free non-skewering hand, grabbed hold of one of Jason’s thighs and trapped it around his own waist. Jason’s other free leg could only just dangle helplessly, his toes skittering against pavement for balance. Jason’s fingers scratched at the giant's steel rebar of an arm. His slipping hands wildly swinging between frantic tugs to remove and desperate clutches for support from said offending limb.
Squirming, thrashing, and lashing out, Jason growled, snarled, and bucked in impotent wrath. The Pit Rage writhed. It fuelled his own rage and wild panic at being caught and rendered helpless like this.
He yelled, howled, and cursed out the giant but the giant remained imperturbed, utterly focused on further skewering Jason’s chest with his icy bullshit magic hands.
After one particularly strong flail, the giant suddenly tightened his grip on Jason’s everything and pressed in closer. He slowly pulled his hand free from his chest, and Jason was suddenly gasping, bent over.
With an easy, gentle but unyielding hand, the giant lifted Jason’s chin and looked deeply into Jason’s wild eyes, with steady, piercing blue ones of his own.
“C̖͋̓̏̊̈́̌ͮa̴ͬ̇ͦ̊͒̆ḻ̯͎͞m͕͕͕̙̀ͤ̾ͭ̓̈ ̫̙͎͍̞ͥ̃̍͛̔dͪ̿̓́҉͕̖̺̹o̪̜̬̝̞̬̒wń̻͚̤̙̞͛,” he commanded. “D̨̺̼̳͢͡o̥͉̭ͅ ̛͎̣̭͚̫n̸͖͎̹͈̦͙͉ơ͖̙̟̣t̬̙̪ b̷e̡͜ ̴̴af̷ra̷id͠”.
Jason’s frantic movements slowed to a stop as a wave of calm resonated from within Jason. Suspicious. Instantly Jason’s hackles raised. But the Pit Rage didn’t increase in vitriol. As if it had been sedated, the Pit Rage instead went quiet.
Jason sneered, squeezing the giant’s offending limb. “Fuck you,” he spat out. The giant gave a small teasing smile in response.
“But we’ve only just met,” the giant answered lightly. Then he punctuated his statement by stabbing his hand back into Jason’s chest. Jason stifled a scream. It was more shock than pain.
“E͝asy̛ doès ̸it,͡ I'͞m̛ ́a͡lm̧os̷t́ ̛th̴e͡ŕe̸”. What was this giant even doing, rummaging through his soul? It didn’t even hurt. The act was very unlike a stabbing or a gunshot wound. But it was visceral and oversensitizing and intensifying. From chilly ice baths, Jason's very soul was now burning alight with glacial fire. Tear tracks crystallised on Jason’s face as stared down the giant. But the giant wasn’t even looking back at him. Jason could only helplessly look at where their hand disappeared into his chest cavity. Currently, being burnt and staked to the wall by icy magic hands was Jason's status-quo. He could no longer speak, only choke back gasping moans as ardent ice swallowed his heart.
Finally, the giant pried his hand out from Jason’s chest. He took with him something heavy and viscous that had been sloughed off forcefully from Jason's heart. There was pure relief. All of sudden Jason felt like a great burden had been taken from him. Or that his heart had been constricted. His lungs had been suffocating. His throat strangled. But now he was free.
Jason saw that in the giant's grip there was a fistful of thick, goopy, green-blue sludge. Still in shock, Jason had half expected it to be his still beating heart. As ever focused more on his actions rather than on Jason, the giant gave the goop a curious frown.
Abruptly, Jason realised that the Pit Rage was gone. Was that his Pit Madness?! The giant tilted his hands to prevent the goop from slowly dripping to the ground.
Slowly, the giant squished it between his fingers. Then he shrugged and sucking the damned thing into his waiting mouth. He simply slurped it down and licked his fingers like it was nothing more than some spilt hot sauce or a melting ice sundae.
The giant's eyes flashed from bright blue to neon Lazarus green. As he exhaled, blue mist shimmered from his lips. Reflexively, Jason gasped and the blue mist travelled from the giant’s lips to his as Jason inhaled. Desperately.
“Ahh you’re H̿̉͑̽́̉̉̚ŭn̍͋͐̇͏g͆̈̎ŕ́y̸̡̛̓ͨ̒. Of course you are. Here, l̲̏è͚͚ͥt m̲͉̾̆e ̐h̳͍̹e̻̮l̶͜p͏͖̦̜̦ ̡͚̟̩y̖͔̠̜͚͈̖͢͞ọ̷̦̗͖̥̠ͅu̼̱̞̟͍͓̝”.
The giant's eyes flared to Lazarus green. His black hair bleached to a shocking white. Jason could feel it deep inside that the giant was building up to something. Then the giant plunged his free hand back into Jason’s chest. Jason couldn’t even be shocked.
It was still for a moment. Then there was the relieving numbness of ice on strained muscles. The gentle cool breeze on feverish skin. A refreshing ice cold drink soothing a parched, burning, thirst deep inside.
Jason moaned. It was pure relief. It was satisfaction when filling a gaping need.
“There you go, t̴̢͢a̷̸͡k̷̢̀̕͢e̕ ̶̷̶͡͠a͢͜s̨҉ ̢͜m̸̧͝͝u̸̡͠͡c̵̸h͡ ̴̧a̛͞s͟͠ ̷͘͞͝ỳ̧̕͡ǫ̶̧͢ù́͘͢͝ ͘̕͢͠w̕͢͞à҉̀͝n̡̕͟t҉͟.”
Jason glutted. He felt a part of him greedily consume what the giant was endlessly offering him. Joyful tears pricked his eyes even as his heart(?) ravenously devoured the giant’s gift. Jason panted, large gulping breaths, desperate for, not air, but something just as vital for survival. His brain zinged as if Jason was tasting the sweetest of frozen delights, drinking from the purest of ice-cold springs, or breathing the crispest of frigid mountain air.
Eventually Jason slowed down. His frantic feeding mellowing out to a blissful savouring. When he finally stopped, when that greedy, needy, desperate part of him finally hummed in satiation, Jason felt the giant loosen his steady, unbreakable hold on him. The giant released him, pulling his hand out of his chest like a caressing hand.
Jason shivered, breaking out in goosebumps. He hid his face into the giant’s chest, taking huge gulping breaths, fully resting his weight against him. His thigh curling tight against the other’s waist still, with fistfuls of the man’s shirt in hand. Jason felt like he was experiencing a great high and coming down from a bad trip. All he could do was hold on as reality re-shifted around him. Jason’s breathing eventually evened out and his focus came to. Absentmindedly, he realised his breathing was in sync with the giant’s heart rate - slow, steady, and beguilingly calm.
“F̱̮̲͍͖e̡̩̪̮e̷͈̹͚l͇͘í̥͕͚̺n͓͎͕͚̮g͏͖̟̪͇͉ bͤ̚et͆̈́̂t͘e̔̄ͥr̍͂?" the giant rumbled.
“What?” Jason asked, still rather dazed. His tongue felt unusually heavy and cumbersome. “I mean yes, much better. Who, what, who are you, what did you just do?!” His words were half accusation, half wonder.
The giant cocked his head, clearly looking over Jason who was still braced against him.
The giant paused for a moment and then started again. He spoke clearer. It was in more a more coherent voice. It sounded Midwestern.
"With your core in that state, you'll probably understand human speech better. As I was saying I was just helping you out with that nasty ecto-situation you had going on. You were destabilising really badly so I just put an end to that. For now, at least. This is being more emergency first-aid treatment after all. Lucky that I’m the ghost equivalent of a universal donor. But yeah, any long-term treatments to get better I’m gonna have to send you to a medical professional for that. I can recommend my own doctor, he’s an expert on people like us. Although, you’re not an ice core but a fire core so I dunno how exactly that’ll play out for you. But he’ll definitely still be of help. He’ll at least be able to tell you what you need.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. That was far more information than he expected to be given. Especially from a guy who had just unceremoniously just shoved his hand into his chest cavity to do some kind of barehanded removal surgery and then ate the remnants. Now if only Jason had a single clue about what the giant was going on about, just a crumb of context.
“Ok there you meatball surgeon from Ankh-Morpork, I have no fucking idea what the fuck you’re on about. All I know is that one minute I’m Pit Mad, then the next I’m being skewered like a kebab by a fucking giant who’s hand is rummaging around in my chest cavity as if it’s a sofa cushion with loose change you’re after.”
Jason aggressively steamrolls over how good having the giant’s hand in his chest had felt. That he kinda wanted it back inside. That he’s mourning its absence. Those feelings, Jason refuses to even mentally glance at them before stomping them flat.
“And then after finding what you’re looking, which I’m guessing is my Pit Madness because I don’t even fucking feel it anymore! You then just fucking ate it. You fucking ate my Pit Rage! Like it was a goddamn slurpee!”
“I would've offered you some, but it clearly wasn’t good for you.”
Jason stared balefully. “Wasn’t good for me.”
“Yeah you core was clearly struggling, which is not a surprise. It's pretty fragile to be honest. Is,” the giant hesitates, “I know this is a little insensitive to ask, but are you ok? Are you safe?"
Jason’s previous relief was quickly swinging towards a burgeoning hysteria.
“Asking if I’m ok is insensitive?” But impromptu soul surgery by a wholeass stranger wasn’t. This giant’s sense of propriety was wild.
“I wouldn’t want to touch upon something taboo," the giant kindly asserts. Then he widens his eyes, "Oh, I’m so stupid! Are you being hunted?”
“Hunted?! By what?!”
“Ghost hunters or something.”
“I’m a zombie! Besides ghosts aren’t,” Jason pauses and then forges on, “ghosts aren’t real.”
The giant rears his head back, clearly taken aback.
“You think ghosts aren’t real”.
“Rapidly less so with every second you look at me like that, I will admit.”
“Oh we have so much to talk about.”
Part 2 - Danny POV
Gotham was so cursed, it was almost hysterical. The ectoplasm here was an emotional miasma of fear, hostility, and insanity. A veritable cocktail of violence, magic, and madness. It was steeped in the soil. It stewed in the waters. The foundation that the City was built on was the blood-stained, screaming deaths of the victims' demise from genocide. Gotham was their devastating scorched-earth vengeance.
The capricious and cruel magics entwining with the demented psyches of twisted lunatics. The generations of decadent, sadistic malice. The layers upon layers of maleficence all fermented together to create Gotham. A city where people lived, and where people died, with gritted-teeth and marrow-deep stubbornness and a jaded, crystallised resolve to keep going and never give up.
It was very different from the pure, immense, but ultimately rather neutrally charged ectoplasm back in Amity.
Danny loved it.
Gotham's ambient ectoplasm was an smorgasbord of emotions that was fine dining if not as nutritionally enriching. Amity's ambient ectoplasm was equivalent to protein powder shakes and high energy bars made in bulk. There was a reason why ghosts were so physically present in Amity Park. The open portal may give ghosts easy and frequent access but it was the ambient ectoplasm that reached high levels rarely reached in Physical World that empowered their presence. In comparison, Gotham's was a tiny portioned delicacies made from rare, exquisite, and borderline toxic ingredients. As result their ghosts were rare and Revenant. Their undead existence was dependent on their corporeal physical body. Gotham's ambient ectoplasm was too scarce for them to form, be present, or be seen without a physical anchor.
A Genus Loci was rarely the most loquacious of ghosts. It was an amalgamation, the embodiment of zeitgeist, a singularity formed from many deaths, many fears, many desires. It was one mind, it was every mind. Gotham was no one, it was every one. So when Many unified as One, communication was densely packed concepts and emotions. Gotham City was no exception. Danny responds to it's call.
Gotham faithfully pulled him towards her beloved Butcherbird until Danny's own ghost sense was picking him up. Unfortunately, the revenant was destabilising, violently. Danny couldn't tell exactly what was wrong with him without getting inspecting their ghost core however. But Phantom could easily see that the revenant was in a middle of a massive meltdown. The kind of meltdown where their haywire feelings meant they weren't in their right mind. The kind of meltdown where a ghost could, under the strain of their own berserk emotions, break down and injure their ghost core. The kind of meltdown where the best thing to do was to neutralise the trigger and then hold them till they calmed down and came back to themselves.
Danny could see from the lack of combatants that unless the trigger was the very city itself (unlikely otherwise they couldn't be Gotham's) that meant that whatever was triggering this meltdown was internal.
The revenant was so deep in his meltdown that the man couldn't even register his presence even when Danny was speaking to him.
"Sorry, but I'm pretty sure this is a medical emergency".
The ghost, understandably panicked when Danny suddenly made immediate contact with his ghost core. His small and tender ghost core that was all but encased with ill-processed ectoplasmic detritus. It was clear to sense that major ecto-debridement (the active removal of ectoplasmic detritus) of their ghost core was in order. The ghost core was under so much strain and so polluted that no wonder he was experiencing a major meltdown. The poor guy was likely on the constant brink of destabilisation. Danny was just glad that the meltdown was a result of his ecto-biology. If it had been a mental issue, like a threat to his Obsession, that would have been far more difficult to neutralise. The man was a stranger. He wasn't even aware enough to monologue and rant about his problem to him so Danny could get context clues.
Carefully, Danny spread out his ectoplasm over the ghost core to get a better sense of its state. The ghost core full on shuddered and flailed.
Danny soothed the agitated ghost core, "́Eąs͟y̡,͡ ́e͡as̀y," as he focused on feeling out the depth of severity of the ghost core's condition. The ghost himself was weakly lashing out at the unexpected contact. Danny absent-mindedly absorbed their light blows.
Carefully Danny began to saturate the ghost core with his own ectoplasm. It would soften the ectoplasmic detritus and loosen it from the encased ghost core. However as the saturation levels increased, irrespective of how gentle and well-meaning his ectoplasm emanates, the ghost core became overwhelmed from the significant increase in foreign ectoplasm.
Like a toddler refusing to open their mouth to feed, it's emphatic refusal to accept his ectoplasm started to disrupt Danny's steady flow of ectoplasm. After one particularly strong flail caused Danny to slip, he had to quickly re-steady himself. Gently letting go of their ghost core, he paused for moment. Then, looking the other straight in the eyes, Danny spoke with Authority.
“C̖͋̓̏̊̈́̌ͮa̴ͬ̇ͦ̊͒̆ḻ̯͎͞m͕͕͕̙̀ͤ̾ͭ̓̈ ̫̙͎͍̞ͥ̃̍͛̔dͪ̿̓́҉͕̖̺̹o̪̜̬̝̞̬̒wń̻͚̤̙̞͛,” he commanded. “D̨̺̼̳͢͡o̥͉̭ͅ ̛͎̣̭͚̫n̸͖͎̹͈̦͙͉ơ͖̙̟̣t̬̙̪ b̷e̡͜ ̴̴af̷ra̷id͠”.
Not mind-control but definitely resonant, the ghost core finally quieted down, and the ghost stopped lashing out.
“E͝asy̛ doès ̸it,͡ I'͞m̛ ́a͡lm̧os̷t́ ̛th̴e͡ŕe̸”. The ghost core was almost entirely drenched in Danny's ectoplasm. The ectoplasmic detritus would soon be soft enough to separate pulling it from the vulnerable ghost core.
Danny began to add some ice to his ectoplasm so that the detritus would gel together separately from the ghost core. Once he got as much as he could, he slowly extricated the captured detritus. The overall ectoplasm was quite gelatinous, and exuded rich, powerful, delectable emotions.
As harmful as it may have been for the ghost, that was because their ghost core couldn't sufficiently process that high intensity of emotions. Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, did not share that same problem. He figured it would be such a shame to discard such a delicious piece of ectoplasm.
Once he finished consuming the ectoplasm, realised that the ghost was H̿̉͑̽́̉̉̚ŭn̍͋͐̇͏g͆̈̎ŕ́y̸̡̛̓ͨ̒. The removal of a significant amount of ectoplasm - even when it was ill-processed - would trigger Ģ̂h͂ͬ̏o͒̇͗̏sͨ͛͗͋t̴ H̿̉͑̽́̉̉̚ŭn̍͋͐̇͏g͆̈̎ͪ̈́̀̚͏eŕ́.
Steadily pouring his ectoplasm, Danny watched as the ghost core gleefully replenished it's reserves, happily feasting on his ectoplasm, delighted to be given ectoplasm easy, safe, and healthy to process. In real time the fragile ghost core was healing and building itself stronger than it had been before.
“There you go, t̴̢͢a̷̸͡k̷̢̀̕͢e̕ ̶̷̶͡͠a͢͜s̨҉ ̢͜m̸̧͝͝u̸̡͠͡c̵̸h͡ ̴̧a̛͞s͟͠ ̷͘͞͝ỳ̧̕͡ǫ̶̧͢ù́͘͢͝ ͘̕͢͠w̕͢͞à҉̀͝n̡̕͟t҉͟.”(offering-feeding-pleased).
The ghost core eventually slowed down, satisfied with it's improved state and replenished reserves. Danny took back his hand, letting go of the ghost core that trilled with gratitude for him once again (g̵͟͏̀r҉̡̀a͞͠t̷͟͝ì̸͝͠͡t̕҉͟ų͝d̵̶̕͟͠ę̶̡͠͡-h̡̕͢ą̡̡͟p̶̷̧̢͞p̸̕͟͜ỳ̛-s̵̢͝͞a҉͞t͘͟҉̡͢i̢s̢͡f̶̨̀i̷̧͘͟ę̨ḑ). Danny was glad to see it was doing much better. The sudden improvement was very pleasant to see.
Although the ghost core was stronger than ever, Danny noticed that it was vey tired after everything that happened. No longer a medical emergency, Danny no longer needed to be in immediate direct contact with the ghost core. But the close tactile contact allowed the ghost to get his bearings. Meltdowns were exhausting, and of course the ghost core had to be an over-achiever. So it didn't only heal from the operation but it also immediately got to work to building itself up bigger and better than it had been before.
He was pleased when the ghost's breathing mirrored his sedate, ghostly heart rate.
Although significantly calmer and happier, the ghost was still dazed and didn't have the most coherent of responses. It was also becoming obvious that the ghost core was a rather out of sync with the rest of him and just straight up fatigued. Danny decided to just stick to human speech for simplicity's sake whilst explaining.
The ghost didn't seem to like his explanation.
"You then just fucking ate it. You fucking ate my Pit Rage! Like it was a goddamn slurpee!”
Danny couldn't see why the ghost was so angry. He agreed with the ghost, by that point the ectoplasm basically had been a slurpee for him.
But it was the ghost's disbelief in the existence of ghosts; whilst being a ghost that got helped by another ghost by undergoing a treatment that was very ghostly in nature to cure an ailment that was the pinnacle ghostliness; that really beggared him beyond belief.
These are ‘the ‘Rents,’ aka my parents, with their dog, Princess Leia. I also refer to them as S&M because those are the initials of their first names.
I sometimes wonder what they would have named their dog if they hadn’t rescued an adult animal who came with one. My dad usually likes to name things with obscure German words for reasons unknown.
This is the picture I took of them to send out with their new year’s letter to friends and family. They’re both headed into the random health experience portion of the game this year. Having a good picture is nice.
