#he takes such good care of her

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey love! So, I know you already have the proposal au, but I was wondering if you could do an arranged marriage au. And basically, Gilgamesh is in the mafia and Thena's horrible abusive father (Arishem) steals money or drugs from him that Thena doesn't know anything about. And Gilgamesh and his men just show up to her home while Thena's not there and when she comes back she finds out that she's being forced to marry Gilgamesh (which she's not that mad about bc Gil is fine asf🤭). But Thena is basically just shocked and she has to get used to being treated how she should and with princess treatment (like opening her door, giving her gifts just because, etc) Maybe a little age gap like Thena's in her early 20s, Gil is in his Early 30s👀. Also maybe like Gil gives her princess treatment but disrespectful in bed vibes😜.

But anyways I love you and your whole existence and when I found your Tumblr acc it quite literally the happiest day of my life and I literally would kill for you. You're my whole world I live for all your posts and sit waiting everyday for you to post. You are the best thing that happened to me and I'm so grateful you're alive. I love you so much!😘❤️

"Thena?"

She startled, but a warm yet gentle hand touched her shoulder, "hey, it's okay. It's me--I'm sorry to startle you."

She looked around her. She wasn't at home--well, she was. She was no longer in her father's home, where falling asleep out in the open could lead to her getting her hair pulled if he was feeling particularly inebriated and particularly mean spirited.

She was home, in her home with Gilgamesh. It was a massive, modern and sprawling house. She had her own room, despite sharing the house with her husband. It had its own walk-in closet and full bathroom suite. He had installed a library having found out that she liked to read (that was all the incentive he needed, apparently). The only thing her room didn't have was a kitchen, and Gilgamesh did all the cooking anyway.

The first two weeks, when she wouldn't emerge from her room at all, he would leave trays out for her to take inside where she felt safe.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, speaking softly and moving so she could see him, showing her his hands. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. I wanted to see if you were hungry, or if you wanted to move into your room."

A gangster for a husband, and he made sure her room was always open for her, that only she was allowed in it, unless there was any house keeping she wanted done. He had even hired a female cleaner, specifically in hopes of making her feel more comfortable.

"Thank you," she smiled at him, hoping to assuage his fears of scaring her. She let the book on her lap fall closed and curled her legs up under the blanket thrown over her. "Sorry, dozed off between chapters."

"You don't have to apologise," he assured her, moving slowly as he took a seat on the sofa. He wasn't at the far end of it, but it was more than enough space for her to feel separate from him. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Are you okay? You seemed to be having a bad dream."

She was. Even removed as she was from that place, sometimes she would think was waking in her room, her desperate attempts to start a real career crammed into the corner of her room where her father wouldn't know to go digging for money.

The crinkle of her clothes in plastic bags so that he couldn't get them all wreaking of alcohol before a job interview. The way she would walk on the balls of her feet so as not to wake him when he was passed out on the couch in the middle of the day. The fear that every knock on the door would be another debt collector.

"Hey," Gilgamesh said as softly as he could again, "what do you need?"

If she hadn't woken from such a terrible dream she might swoon. It was almost a shame their relationship was one of contract. Gilgamesh was very good at seeming romantic.

She inhaled, putting on a braver face. "Some food sounds good."

"Okay," he nodded. His hand hovered, as if he would pat her knee under her blanket. But he stood instead, pulling himself away from her. "I can do that."

Thena stood, nearly slipping on the stairs of the elevated seating area to follow him into the kitchen. "Do you need any help?"

He did let his surprise show on his face, and instances like these she was reminded of the menacing - as well as cocky - gangster who had first appeared in her home and informed her of their marriage. "Setting a fire?--no, sweetheart, thank you."

She huffed, and she even managed to get a chuckle out of him. Laughing suited him more. "You must have had a hard day."

He immediately looked at her, trying to tell how any clue of how his work had gone could have slipped through the cracks. He worked very hard to keep all aspects of his business out of their home life.

She leaned against the spotless granite island/sink. "You seem more tense than usual."

He didn't rise to her bait, focusing on putting together a meal for her--for them.

But she was in the mood to poke the bear, as it were--the big grizzly teddybear in the pinstripe suit. "I figured I would get a 'no need, princess', at least."

He shook his head at her, pulling out a clay pot and retrieving the ingredients necessary. For a man living outside the law, he really was a great cook. "No need for a house fire--that's true."

"I am not that bad," she insisted, rising to her own bait if need be.

Gil - not Gilgamesh but Gil - finally looked at her with a little more mirth. He even chuckled, "Need I remind you of the eggs?"

She rolled her eyes at him. He had this big, beautiful kitchen, and she was home alone all the time. And sometimes she didn't want to wait for delivery to make it all the way to the house (and past security) while Gil was at work. She had figured making herself some eggs couldn't possibly go wrong.

"The hob at our-" she paused and moved on like it was nothing- "at my old place would take ages to heat up. I could never have known that this monstrosity can boil water in under a minute."

Gil glanced towards his very fancy oven on the other counter and then back to her. "Who turns the heat up all the way to make eggs in a pan?"

She shrugged, "they cook faster."

Gil let out a real laugh now, finally relaxing some as he finally started preparing the veggies. She could tell he was enjoying it when he slid them onto an angle to slice them. If it were strictly business he would cut them into little cubes instead. He shook his head. "I told you not to lift a finger while you're here."

That was true. After the fire had been put out, her housekeeping companion had insisted she simply ask if she wanted a meal. It was part of her requirements for the job and everything! Which was a little insulting, no matter how aware of her own cooking habits Thena was.

"I thought men wanted a wife who would cook for them as soon as they got home."

But Gil didn't latch onto her joke. He put down his knife, slowly and gently. He dried his hands on the hand towel below. Then he moved towards her, holding his hands out and asking for hers.

She watched as he did, curious enough to give her hands over to him. He held them so gently, even as he brought them up to his lips to kiss the back of each. She shivered.

He opened his eyes, peering down at her as he stroked her hand with his thumb. "Those aren't men. And you are not just 'a wife', Thena."

Did he want her to fall in love with him or not? The times when he was at work, and then completely secretive about it at home really seemed that he didn't. It seemed that he was upholding his end of the agreement with her father, and his vow to respect her and not to allow any harm to come to her.

But then other times he would say things like this, and she wouldn't know what to think.

She blushed as he left one last kiss on the tip of her finger. Then he was back to chopping, as if he hadn't nearly swept her off her feet (metaphorically speaking).

"Why don't you go sit down, sweetie? I'll come up and join you once this is on the heat." Back to that respectful distance.

She pursed her lips, moving away from the kitchen island as he started rinsing the rice and mixing sauces. That was just like Gilgamesh, to say something so breathtaking and sweet one moment and be a husband in name only the next.

She glanced at her book, although she couldn't even remember what she was reading in it before she had dozed off. Throwing herself back on the couch did seem to catch his attention somewhat; she could tell by the tilt of his head only vaguely in her direction. She also pulled the blanket over her again, with a little more force than the light cashmere needed.

If he only wanted to be half a husband then fine, but he didn't have to be a full time flirt to do it.

She peeked up from her phone as Gilgamesh walked up the three small steps to join her. He had a bad knee but wouldn't admit to it, maybe that was adding to the pressure of his day today.

"Okay," he groaned as he too threw himself onto the couch. He looked over at her, at her safe and respectful distance. "So?"

"So?" she asked in return, bristling at the grin on his face. It suited him a little too much.

He nodded, as if he had been thinking something to himself and had the affirmation he needed. She didn't know what he thought he knew, but she almost didn't want to. He leaned back on the couch, relaxing his posture. This was how a gangster would sit, she imagined. "Well."

"Well?" she prompted him again. But all he did was lazily wave his hand at her. She raised her shoulders, "you want me to...?"

He shrugged, even turning his head away from her. "If you want, I mean. You seem like you want the company."

He was calling her out on her wanting his attention, he meant. And he was right, but she didn't appreciate it. She turned her nose up at it.

"If you wanna sit in my lap, you can say so."

She shivered again, turning and half expecting him to be nose to nose with her. But whens he did look, he was back to pretending like he was halfheartedly watching something on the obscenely large tv mounted on the wall.

To his credit, he didn't say anything as she quietly shifted her position. She didn't tuck herself into his embrace or anything. They weren't actually married.

Gil lowered his arm from the back of the couch to her shoulder, letting her lean partially on him but not so close that she would feel trapped. "Put on that show you like."

"The one that puts you to sleep?" she smirked, even as she picked up the remote.

"It does not put me to sleep."

"It does," she corrected him, and it was moments like these when the marriage did feel less like a business agreement and more like...well, like something. "What about the food?"

"It has a timer, just take it off the heat when it's done."

It was he who was on the verge of nodding off, now. He really had endured a truly terrible day to be so exhausted. And she wouldn't be the one waking him.

She did put on her show, a historical drama she liked. And he really did nod off, the clay pot dinner simmering in the background silently. And only because he was dead asleep did she take the liberty of tucking herself against his chest. Just this once.

[tutuandscoot]

Do you remember which competition it was where Scott was on the podium alone and he jokingly put his arm up as if to put around Tessa’s shoulders? And do you know why Tessa wasn’t with him? I heard that she was sick and had to go throw up but I’m not sure if that’s true…

Yes. It was SCI 2012. Video

So they come out for their bows, go over to the podium. Not to act like a body language expert but in the small bit of them going over to the podium and stepping up on it, he does seem to be being a bit extra precious with her so she maybe wasn’t even feeling well before they went out so, yeh he’s being extra soft.

They are there as CL come out and go to the podium. Then as the 3rd place team step onto the ice, in the right corner you can see VM talking/looking at each other, so as RT get to the podium both S and T have left and RT seem confused.

No, I’m not sure exactly what was the matter. I’d assume yes she wasn’t feeling well. They (VM) have said many times she would get sick often before skates (throw up sometimes) and she struggled with her breathing- heightened and hard to control in high pressure situations (why the hug was so important and took on kinda a spiritual/harmonious/holistic significance for them). Obviously this was after the competition but that doesn’t mean she may have been feeling ‘competition sick’ afterwards in this case.. I read a really.. quite passively-nasty comment about this once where the blog said she had ‘effed up Carmen at this comp so much it made her sick and couldn’t be on the podium’ (I’ve had it with trash takes honestly 😞)

So anyway Scott obviously got her off the podium and back to the side of the rink for her to settle/get water/whatever she needed to do. It may also NOT have been she was sick and could’ve been something else. I have never read anything offical from them so I’m not claiming anything to be fact.

Scott comes back to the podium. I’m sure he would’ve rather stayed with her but bc they are professional and didn’t want to be rude to those presenting the medals he comes back and covers for her. He gets handed her medal and flowers.

She comes back just at the flowers are being handed out, so Scott gives her those then the man giving out the medals (the same one that presented their flowers at YVR 2010 I’m pretty sure) comes back to present her medal, which honestly no offence but I wish Scott could’ve presented her medal bc.. adorableness..

So yeh, not sure what happened, probs not a big deal considering she came back quite quickly.

Also it wasn’t caught on camera but I’d bet money he lifted her off the podium considering how quickly they were both there then gone..

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 8: How met your mother (CSSR design by @qourmet!)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[splinterclan]

Moon 21.2 : Going horizontal? Also Siblings <333 Also also this marks Pansy moving back into the Med den and Cedar becoming a nursery King (for as long as there's kits in there!)

[cubbihue]

Question ...if fairies rely on desire to feed,would Dev be a GOOD food source or a terrible food source? Does desire come from wishing or wanting more, essentially. Because dev like.. Has all he can want except his dad's approval ,so how does that work?

Fairies' food comes from the innate emotion a person has while Wishes are just the only way Fairies can pull the emotions (food) out!!!

The more the desire is out of reach, the more delicious it is, and the longer the fairy can go without needing another meal. It's simply easier to harvest from children because they have big emotions, and weak minds and impulses. A child can say "I wish" more openly than an adult does, making it easier for Fairies to cultivate.

Dev's one of the best food sources there is. In fact, he's able to feed a family of 5 for at least 8 months! However, he's also one of the worse sources to collect from because his desire is noncollectable by magic.

Which means you'll need an expert high-class, high-ranking Fairy Godparent who can siphon out his Desires into smaller parts via multiple smaller wishes!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

Y’all seemed to like my concept where the kids went on a mission with Gyomei! Here’s a little comic!

(Original post)

[embrace-your-illithid]

heere she is..… my illithid tav creature....… my sunshine goth pink sparkle princess paladin.… naive -2 int will drop a divine smite a-bomb on whoever threatens her lynchpin bf…... loyal lapdog to the very end, won't break her oath so she is the most cringefail starving mindflayer in toril.... Qurrn ✨🦑☀️

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

jon val jon or something

[starry-bi-sky]

Thinking about the CFAU and marveling at how much Danny and Jason care for one another. Does anybody else figure out that Danny is going to kill the Joker, or is that knowledge Jason exclusive? I can't see Danny being close enough to any other Batfam member to disclose his plans, but I wonder if he drops hints. They're a family of paranoid detectives. I'd be surprised if they don't figure out Danny has a PURPOSE for being in Gotham at some point. Whether Danny's able to disguise it as wanting to be closer to Jason or not is another burning question.

Its def Red Hood exclusive! You're right in that Danny isn't close enough to disclose his revenge plot to any of the batfam members -- hell, not even Sam and Tucker know his true motives for returning to Gotham, and they're his best friends right after Jason! And Red Hood knows only because Danny accidentally slipped up ;].

I do also think that the Waynes kinda think something might be up with Danny -- at least Dick and/or Bruce might since they're the only ones who actually know him beyond brief mentions of him. Tim knows about him due to his stalking, but doesn't really know him -- and Danny plans to keep a healthy, friendly distance from the family so he can carry out his plans.

It's not that he holds any dislike towards them -- quite the opposite. He appreciates what they do for Gotham and recognizes the hard work that goes into keeping their Rogues Gallery at bay (even if he is bitter about Joker, but there's an obvious reason for that) -- but, well. He knows they're the vigilantes, he doesn't want to risk them sniffing out his murder plot before he can even go through with it.

Luckily for him he can excuse any distance he puts between them as just being busy with life and trying to settle in, and they're not close enough to him anymore to find it suspicious. I do think they figure out he's back in Gotham for a reason, Danny's not going to exactly hide the fact that he's back to find some kind of closure -- but what that closure is?

I think the only person who might suspect something sinister going on would be Bruce, who saw the sinking rage in Danny's eyes at the funeral -- it was part of the reason he didn't tell him who killed Jason (beyond secret identity reasons). But that depends on whether or not Danny reveals some of his hand, and the fact that he was still holding onto that rage (somewhat unwillingly) all this time.

[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.

[jessmalia]

Mal's Avatar: The Last Airbender rewatch: The beach 3.05

[priceofreedom]

#Elmyra approving of Zack makes me so happy 😭 FF7 Rebirth 20 / ?

[ch1zzie]

The original in the bottom

Plus the picture I mainly drew but decided to draw the rest for funny

[eats-a-berry]

ngl its wild seeing people say toshiro's reaction to chimera falin was because she was not longer "palatable" to him like yeah i would be freaking the fuck out if my former party members' attempt to save someone important to us turned her into a murderous chimera on a rampage who just killed all of our party members in front of us and only barely had any traces of herself left in her. i WOULD want to, y'know, let her rest instead of attempting to defy death by further mangling her beyond comprehension because these people have shown they have no idea what they're doing and have apparently caused a fate worse than death for her. it's pretty much just the flip side of the coin and "letting falin go" is, in fact, a lesson the crew has to learn by the end

i don't think faligon is falin's "true nature", i think it's an extreme end consequence of her issues: one where she has little free will, is on complete autopilot, and is controlled by another person.

[super-lupus]

The way Mulder says "and my report will reflect that, in case you're worried." to Scully in 7x7 makes my brain fuzz out. Like it's so obvious. Like how could she be scared about that. Like 'of COURSE I'm going to lie on an official FBI document about you killing someone in order to protect you, silly. Don't even worry abt it.'

And her reaction is perfect too because she almost looks like she wants to chide him, tell him that that's against policy (and probably a crime??) and it's not the right thing to do. But she knows she would do the same thing for him and that she has before. So who is she to talk?