#apart from my parents

[15000bugs]

thinking about how my course advisor meeting today and how i asked her about a course and she told me its real world applications and gave me and example like “say youre in a fandom and youre writing fanfic” HELLO? she instantly clocked the kind of person i am.. wow

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[baalzebufo]

some additional doodles and a Lot of Headcanons... sorry if im spamming these a little bit. ive got so many thoughts in my head, lmao

theres my older pacifica- after weirdmageddon, her and gideon become friends. theyre both sort of ostracized from the town as a whole bc of their past attitudes/actions so they cling together and become buds. its nice having someone else who 'gets' it.

pacifica moved out as soon as she could to get away from her folks and has a job at a local mall. gideon enables her to enjoy at least SOME of her old luxuries by taking her shopping and to get their nails done together and stuff. also his prison buddies help ''kindly persuade'' her parents not to break her enforced no-contact rule from time to time. i know the two have the bitchiest gossip in the entire town together. sometimes when its hard to be 'nice' they know they can at least vent to the other and they wont get judged for it, yknow?

also some backstory doodles! he was a Normal Kid, Once. or close enough to it. gideon was a sickly child and was sheltered and homeschooled for most of his life. the gleefuls moved from texas to oregon when he was about seven (yes i know this breaks canon a little. its fine shh.) and he found journal 2 shortly after. things went downhill from there

other notes. he's always kept his hair long, but used to either let it down or tie it into a long braid. he very briefly attended a public school and he didnt fare very well there (fat kid + albino + 'girly' + general weird interests is basically painting a massive target on your back) he used to stay up and watch late night televangelists when he couldnt sleep in hospital and copped his aesthetic from there

sorry this post is so long i have a lot of thoughts about him </3

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[winged-thinged]

Life gets so much lighter when you are just allowed to exist. When there's no god in your head listening in on everything you think. When the trees outside are not a sign of anybody's presence, but just beautiful. I think the world, fundamentally, belongs to itself. And we are a part of it. That's all.

[sophsun1]

Britin + Parallels with their fathers

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.

[dear-ao3]

packing to go home is so weird. do i have a single coherent outfit? probably not. did i bring a single shirt? no idea. how many pairs of socks should i bring? hell if i know. did i even remotely look at the weather? nope. but god forbid i forget to bring home the one random object my mom asked me to.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

It's funny that the hubris of characters like Zhao Jing is always pride (he's greedy, too, sure, but that's just to feed his huge, fragile ego), while Jin Guangyao's downfall was actually his mercy.

Also as far as WoH characters go, I think Jiggy has more in common with the little scorpion.

truly it is jin guangyao's compassion and mercy that come back to bite him in the ass. evidence:

everyone who ultimately contributes to killing him are people whose lives he has literally saved in the past, or whose lives he has devoted himself to improving in some way. he saved nie mingjue's life during the confrontation with wen ruohan in the scorching sun palace; he saved AND protected lan xichen and what was left of the gusu lan library after the razing of the cloud recesses; he doted on and cared for and saw nie huaisang as more than simply nie mingjue's disappointing, childish successor, and solved his problems for him for well over a decade after nie mingjue's death.

he could have killed sisi after realizing she was among the sex workers who raped jin guangshan to death, but he didn't, specifically because she was kind to him and meng shi; (nobody @ me about the imprisonment, i'm not saying any of that was good. but he could not harm her more than he already had.)

he has so many opportunities during the guanyin temple sequence to kill every single one of his hostages, which would certainly make recovering meng shi's remains less difficult (before he realizes her remains are missing)--but he doesn't.

i'm sure there are more examples of course, but those are the ones that immediately leap to mind. as for the comparison to xie'er.... hmm. there are definitely some superficial similarities, but i really don't think anyone in word of honour is a suitable comparison to jin guangyao honestly. i'll have to mull it over some more, but as i've said before, jin guangyao is such a unique character in the genre that he is tricky to make these kinds of comparisons about.

[preciouslandmermaid]

spencer/reader + southern gothic aesthetic "I'm just a child, but I'm not above violence My mama raised me better than that..."

the mosquitoes and frogs sing their discordant symphony above the rustling oak leaves and Spanish moss that drape over branches like abandoned wedding veils. you push your toes on the damp floorboards and the rocking chair tilts backward, and your stomach lurches as you sway forward. the old book on your lap with yellowed pages and a musty scent lays open like a vivisected hare. a gnat lands on the corner of the page and you try to flick it away. you accidentally killed it and your brows furrow softly. the hinges on the screen door squeak and you break your monotonous rhythm, the rocking chair sway cut short. "garcia says we're lucky we have cell service," spencer says, with his hands in his pockets, before his eyes flick to your lap, "what're you reading?" "mm." you nod. "nice of the chief to let us use his house." you close the book and self-consciously wipe the title with your hand (the one that killed the gnat). "did you know that franz kafka didn't want bugs on the cover of his book?" "you're reading 'the metamorphosis'," he guesses. "it's a comfort read," you say, shrugging, your toes pushing the floorboards again. spencer slowly sits in the rocking chair beside you and you silently return to the symphonies of the moist, summer night. at least - you do until spencer starts talking about his interpretation of the novel and you listen, your eyes focused on the harsh, slice of darkness where the porch light doesn't reach.

[if-we-are-free-tell-me-why]

every time I hear someone say "oh you have to listen to Dear Evan Hansen it has such good mental health representation" I cry in Next to Normal

[hingefreelester]

My submission for @dnptarot I am so late, this really was a Sisyphus project for me but I finally got it done!! As the card is about new beginnings, taking opportunities and laying foundations for future success I chose Hello internet Dan for it! As baby Dan was the king of jumping in and seizing his chances xd

[artharakka]

On aivan kuin vihreää näkyisi enemmän kuin eilen. Sen täytyy olla omaa mielikuvitustani. On vielä liian varhaista. Vaitonaisena Maa kiipeää korkeammalle, virheetön, pyöreä vesipisara, jossa on kaikki: jokainen mennyt päivä ja tuleva. Tältä etäisyydeltä siinä ei näy ainuttakaan arpea. Minusta näyttää, että jos ojentaisin käteni, voisin silittää sen pintaa, silittää sen uudelleen uneen. Sormiini jäisi veden ja maan himmeä hohde, joka viipyisi, kun myöhemmin nukahtaisin huoneessani käsi posken alla. Kenties herättyäni löytäisin häiveen siitä kasvoiltani, kuin muiston, tai kuivuneen kyyneleen. — Emmi Itäranta. Kuunpäivän kirjeet

* * *

It is almost like there is more green today than there was yesterday. It must be my own imagination. It is still too early. Silently, Earth is rising higher, a flawless, round drop of water that holds everything within: each day past and future. From this distance, there isn’t a single scar visible. To me it seems that if I reached out my hand, I could stroke its surface, caress it back to sleep. The faint glow of water and earth would remain on my fingertips, and it would linger there, when I would later fall asleep in my room my hand under my cheek. Perhaps, when I would wake up, I would find a trace of it on my face, like a memory, or a dried tear. — Emmi Itäranta. The Moonday Letters. Quote tranlated by me (unofficial)

[kaijugroupy]

things get better. my best friend in the world got top surgery after us talking about it for years. i'm getting mine next year. i have genuine friends now who teach me everyday what love looks like. love looks like going to an arcade and talking for hours at the bar instead. love looks like planning road trips to our hometowns. love looks like choosing our regalia colors together. love looks like learning our language. love looks like compression binders. love looks like top surgery scars. love looks like sweet grass tattoos.

things get better.

[phosphophylight-of-my-life]

oshi no ko aqua is such a fun character bc by most counts he's a more than decent guy.

in his first life he regularly visited hospital inpatients who had no visitors. he was genuinely happy and excited to help Ai deliver her babies, because he wants her to be happy on her own terms. he saves Akane simply because he can, and gets angry at the staff on her behalf. he doesn't stop at saving her life and spends sleepless nights turning around her public image. at that point there was nothing in it for him to keep akane around, she was just a person he was able to help and wanted to help.

by most counts he's a pretty decent guy who steps up when people need him most, except. except he's also a guy who really wants to kill his dad and that makes him manipulate people somewhat often and this is somehow not entirely at odds with his instinct to help others

[skunkes]