#prompt: stumbling

[serickswrites]

What Happened?

Warnings: betrayal, knife, stabbing, blood, wound, collapse, unconsciousness

"There you are," Team Leader said with a smile as they saw Teammate Two approaching. "You're late, that's not like you, what happened?"

Teammate Two's face was guarded as they approached. "I got distracted and then traffic....you know how it is."

Team Leader smiled softly. "I do. I'm glad you're here. The others will be joining soon, too. It must be a helluva traffic jam." Team Leader started to unpack the large picnic basket they had on the table. "We won't get started without them, but at least we can get it all set up."

Teammate Two didn't respond. They merely stood by Team Leader. Team Leader noticed how quiet they were, how they barely engaged. How unlike themself they were. "Are you ok, Teammate Two?"

Teammate Two frowned. "I've had a rough morning. I could really use a hug."

Team Leader looked at Teammate Two, really looked at them. Teammate Two looked on the verge of tears. Team Leader opened their arms wide. "I would love to give you a hug."

Teammate Two walked towards Team Leader's open embrace. Team Leader wrapped their arms tightly around Teammate. Two--just the way Teammate Two liked it. Teammate Two's lips brushed Team Leader's ear as they spoke. "I really am sorry about this, Team Leader."

Before Team Leader could respond, they felt the knife go in just below their ribs. Their breath caught in their chest as the pain threatened to overwhelm them. The pain of being stabbed. Mostly, the pain of Teammate Two's betrayal.

Team Leader's arms fell away as they felt Teammate Two pull out the blade. Their body felt so weak as their head swam. They started to stumble back, but Teammate Two wrapped their arms around Team Leader. "It's nothing personal. It had to be one of you. I'm sorry it was you. I didn't want it to. But you were the first one here."

"Wh-Wh-Why?" Team Leader managed to choke out around the blood filling their mouth.

Teammate Two pulled back, their eyes now cold and distant. "It had to be one of you. You just happened to get here first."

Team Leaders knees gave out and Teammate Two released them. Team Leader couldn't breathe around the pain or the blood filling their mouth. Couldn't breathe around the hurt of betrayal filling them. And as Team Leader's world began to go dark and Teammate Two disappeared from their field of vision, Team Leader couldn't breathe around the fear of what Teammate Two had planned for the rest of their team.

[periswirl]

Poison Ivy is hired to revive an extinct flower. It's good money and the flower has no adverse effects on the environment so she's more than happy to take the job.

She thinks everything is good and continues to grow these flowers for her client. Until a child shows up in her greenhouse and informs her that the flowers she's been providing are actually going to a branch of the government and are being used to destroy the a different realm.

The government has been tricking her into destroying the environment, earthly or not. Soon they'd learn exactly why Poison Ivy is feared.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 47

Hear me out. Amity Park gets shifted in universes slightly- maybe it’s from Pariah, maybe it was a wish, maybe they did so on purpose to escape something- and they end up in the DC-verse. The thing is, thanks to the media blackout and the shields, no one in the new universe notices. The Amityville Paekers know about outside, can go on the internet and leave whenever they want, but they’ve all become more than a little liminal. More than a little off. Movements too graceful, eyes too sharp, ears too pointed and teeth more akin to predatory fangs. Skin with a soft glow, hair moving as though underwater or being tussled by the wind- bodies seemingly unaging after a certain point. They’re so ecto-contaminated that they’re unsure they can even be counted as human anymore, and it wasn’t like the city wasn’t already practically self sufficient. Add in a portal or two through the Infinite Realms to get supplies to start a few fields or some fish farms and well, they’re pretty good. Sure it’s resulted in them using a mixture of modern and older money and having several extinct plants and animals running around but that’s fine. There’s magic in this world! Actual magic, that they can learn! And use? Oh this makes rebuilding after a sparring incident go so much faster! 

This results in the hero who stumbles across this place to believe they’ve stumbled across some sort of city of fae or elves. 

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: I seek out cults, who all, by nature, invite me in. I am never thirsty these days, but this new one is strange. I can’t seem to leave the small town it’s based in, and everyone’s blood tastes wrong.

[profiction-edits]

You’re invited to the…

PROFIC PARTY!

I made a list of prompts to use across two weeks. You can do moodboards, stimboards, icons, banners, writing, art, or any other creative thing! For ships, feel free to use ships from any fandom or selfships! You can skip days, do multiple things for one day, or anything else that you’d prefer. Tag your works with #profic party, and/or @ me, and I’ll reblog it here!

WEEK ONE:

Day 1: Your OTP.

Day 2: Your favorite character(s).

Day 3: Your most problematic ship.

Day 4: A rarepair that you like (or a selfship that you don’t talk about often).

Day 5: A crossover ship (or a crossover of two things that you love).

Day 6: A poly ship.

Day 7: A character that you like from media that you aren’t otherwise interested in.

WEEK TWO:

Day 8: Any character or ship, themed after your favorite season.

Day 9: A character or ship from media that you loved as a child.

Day 10: A platonic ship.

Day 11: A character or ship that exemplifies your favorite trope.

Day 12: A headcanon that is basically canon in your mind.

Day 13: Any character or ship at their ideal party.

Day 14: Free day! Make whatever your heart desires.

[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.

[lavendorii]

Second year

[justaz]

s1ep13 merlin, believing he will be dead by morning, goes to say goodbye to arthur and he leans against the door of arthur’s chambers and watches the glow of the fire light his skin golden, full of color and life that it had been sorely lacking while the prince was injured. he stares at the softness of arthur’s features and pressed the line of his profile into memory for while he passes he will wish for nothing more than to see arthur one last time, his smile and blue eyes one last comfort before he passes on to the otherworld. arthur turns to stare at him and frowns at whatever expression merlin is making. the prince kicks a weak foot out at the chair next to him and motions for merlin to join him. merlin slowly shuffles over but ignores the chair completely. he stops in front of arthur who watches him with wary confusion. the tug of his lips and the furrow of his brow sickeningly endearing and merlin allows himself to be selfish and leans down to press his lips to arthur’s.

the prince is sat frozen under merlin’s touch but he can’t find himself to care much about that, not when he finally knows what it feels like to kiss arthur. he hopes that will be his last sensation before the ever consuming nothing, he hopes he will close his eyes one last time only to find arthur grinning at him and calling him an idiot before leading him into paradise where he can watch arthur smile, hear him laugh, and feel his touch for all eternity. he pulls away and leaves before arthur can gather himself to form a response, dropping the letter explaining everything on the table as he passes. so he allows himself to be selfish twice - to take from arthur and to give, to let himself know what is feels to kiss the man, to embrace his feelings for him, and to have the man know him for who he truly is. he wishes to pass peacefully with no regrets. somehow that revolves entirely around arthur.

only…he survives the whole ordeal and yeah has a gnarly scar on his chest but is otherwise fit to return to his duties. which include taking care of the prince. of arthur. who he kissed. and who most definitely know about his magic by now. yeesh.

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had finally managed to escape the whumper, and after countless efforts, finally thought they could be safe- but this wasn’t true for long. The whumper tore through countless things just to find their favorite captive. when they finally recaptured the whumpee, the whumper made sure that they would never escape again.

[serickswrites]

Lay Me Down

Warnings: gun shot, blood, wounds, unconsciousness

The crack of Whumper’s weapon was loud. It broke the silence of the cold, dark warehouse. The sound reverberated in Whumpee’s ears long after the bullet went through them. Long after the pain started. All Whumpee could hear was the sound. 

They couldn’t hear Caretaker’s frantic running. Couldn’t hear their own groans of pain. Couldn’t hear Whumper’s laugh as they ran from Whumpee. 

All they could hear was the sound of the gun going off. 

“Whumpee!” Caretaker shouted. At last, Whumpee could hear that. 

Whumpee turned slowly, their hands going to the gurgling wound in their gut. They took a stumbling step towards Caretaker. It hurt. Everything hurt. And they were cold. So very, very cold. 

And tired. 

Whumpee stumbled once more and dropped to their knee, no longer able to continue going. The ground surged up to meet them as they started to fall. 

“No, Whumpee! Please stay with me!” Caretaker’s voice sounded so far away. 

Whumpee tried to respond. Tried to speak. But they were cold. And the dark was pulling them under. They could feel Caretaker flip them over and lay them on their back. Could feel Caretaker pressing on the wound in their gut. Could feel they were fading. 

And eventually everything Whumpee knew faded away into the dark. 

[p1nkc4lyps0]

Damn these twinks built completely identical huh, wonder what that’s about

[painfully-unoriginal]

Since you asked for rarepairs... shark and snake 3D?

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 291

You know what? I’m feelin’ a Prompt with the whole halfa family, all the clones and everything. 

See, Danny? He’s grown up, he’s moved out, started looking at colleges himself after spending a few years travelling and learning about himself without the threat of a ghost attack. 

He’s kept in touch with his friends, both living and dead, and ignores Vlad for the most part now that they’ve reached a truce of sorts, and honestly? He’s just living his life. 

But see, it’s kind of hard to figure out what college to pick, with his admittedly not-great choices. Look, he might have a new-ish ID but he’s still visibly not exactly human (though thankfully doesn’t have to worry about the GIW after a… summer activity that ended with several missing buildings) 

And most people he goes to? Finds him ‘too unsettling’ which excuse him?? How is he unsettling? He’s a twenty-five year old with six kids ranging from one to six! How is that “scary” huh? Ancients, and all this is making him use the cash he’s saved up over time. 

And then- as though all of this isn’t stressful enough and he’s not genuinely worried that he won’t have enough money to feed the kids if he goes to school- a hero nearly trips over Jordan and starts freaking out. He is so fucking done. 

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

local elezen has A Realisation.

... /tea indeed.

(the whole mess to this thing)

[boytoyhalo]

Your Selkie au is super compelling! Plus you are a very good writer. A question, will you ever go into more detail about Pac's previous captive situation? I'm very interested in how you will adapt Fuga's lore into your au. ( Specially bc of Cell and Cellbit stuff)

I'M SO SO SO LATE BUT IM USING FITPAC WEEK DAY 3 (WHICH IM ALSO LATE FOR) AS AN EXCUSE TO FINALLY, FINALLYYYYY GET THIS POSTED THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO'S AN ENJOYER OF THIS AU I PROMISE IT ISN'T ABANDONED IVE JUST BEEN IN AN END OF YEAR SLUMP

selkie au snippet #4 (i think) || T || slash (ambiguous) || @fitpacweek day 3 (belated its actually day 4) AU day!!!

read the rest of my posts about this au here

"Can I ask you somethin' personal?"

Pac paused, hand suspended halfway towards the checkerboard that was currently serving as him and Fit's way of passing the long hours up in the lamp room of the lighthouse. He kept his eyes on the round piece he was holding as he deliberated on how to answer, sure that if he met Fit's gaze his face would give away his nervousness; "personal" could mean a wide range of topics, most of which would spell disaster for Pac and his poorly constructed web of secrets. He slowly placed the piece in it's spot on the board, fighting to keep his voice even as he responded.

"Mmm, you can ask, yeah. I might not answer, but you can ask." Fit hummed bemusedly, absently flipping his own game piece between his fingers and he contemplated his next move.

"What happened to your leg?" Pac's breath caught in his throat, and Fit rushed to continue, "It's ok if you don't wanna talk about it, I get it. I just- I mean, you've probably figured out how I lost my arm, right?" Pac looked up at the familiar, mechanical clacking of the veteran's stiff wooden fingers flexing in and out of their open position, eyes involuntarily darting to the gnarled pink scarring that crawled from under his collar and up to the side of his head. He quickly returned his gaze to the board, face reddening a little in shame. Thankfully though, Fit seemed far from offended. "Heh, it's okay, I know. It's pretty obvious. And besides, you're a smart man. I'd be surprised if you hadn't assumed correctly. Me though - I'm just brawn, I don't have a whole lotta brainpower up in this thing." He knocked his fake knuckles lightly against his temple, a light smile on his face. "So if you are okay with me knowing, you're gonna need to tell me."

A small, nervous laugh bubbled it's way out of Pac's chest, his face properly flushed now in a mix of embarassment and flattery. "Don't - don't say that about yourself Fit, you're smart! Smarter than me, probably-" He cleared his throat, redirecting his focus to the topic at hand (ha.) "I can tell you, I don't mind. It's just a, it's a tough topic, you know? I need to get my head in the right place." Fit nodded easily like he understood, which Pac supposed he did at least somewhat.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." The selkie chuckled a bit, tracing the edges of the paneled glass walls that surrounded them as he considered the best way to talk around the subject; he knew, or at least had decided, that he owed it to Fit to give him some semblance of the truth. After all, they had been growing steadily closed for months now and yet Fit knew so little about his life. Which was out of necessity, or course, but his friend had been so kind and so patient with him, never demanding more information than he was given. Pac needed - no, he WANTED to let him in as much as he reasonably could. He deserved it.

"I..." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steeling himself to sort through the painful, tangled memories and hoping he would be able to hold himself together. He starts at the beginning, where he won't have to omit too much of the truth, though if anything that makes it harder to talk about. "Mike and I were on a merchant ship off the coast of São Paulo that was attacked by axis submarines a few years back." Fit winced sympathetically, patiently waiting for him to continue as he picked his next words. "We avoided the worst of the blast, but... Mike was in really bad condition, and I had to hang onto him with one arm and a piece of the wreck with the other while I waited for help to come. By the time someone found us, I was too tired and too um- too relieved to realize that we were being taken as prisoners and not as refugees."

It was all technically true so far, just with some important details omitted: like how they were only on the ship in the first place because their pelts were being imported as merchandise by a fisherman who believed himself to be incredibly lucky, and how they weren't taken as prisoners of war as Fit was no doubt assuming. Pac fails to suppress a shudder as he remembers the smug, taunting grin of the man that stood above him on the deck of his supposed refuge, two familiar seal pelts clutched in his meaty fists.

"I'm so sorry you went through that, Pac. You don't have to keep-" Pac cuts him off, already committed to opening up.

"No, I want to tell you. We," He clears his throat again, pushing down the memories of too-small tanks full of too-salty water, of needles and IV drips and white lab coats and pencils scratching on clipboards as he writhed in pain. "We woke up in some sort of facility, I'm not sure where exactly? I think the men who had us were European but that's all I remember, it's all blurry you know? And that's where we met Cellbit and Felps actually-" The image of frenzied black eyes claws its way to the front of his mind against his will, but he can't help a small smile at Fit's attentiveness as his eyebrows raise in intrigue, the checkerboard between them completely forgotten.

"Anyway, we were there for- months, I think. And long story short Cellbit ended up, um. He tried to- to eat my leg off?" It comes out sounding uncertain, Pac having realized there was no way to say it that wouldn't raise more questions. Sure enough, Fit's mouth drops open.

"Wait he- He tried to eat you?"

"Not- it wasn't- aaaaugh, he wasn't himself ok? They were- they were cruel to us, and they injected him with these drugs that made him all crazy and violent and they kinda just. Let him do it? It wasn't his fault, is what I'm saying." Fit looks disturbed, although significantly less so than Pac would expect from most people. He supposes bearing witness to the horrors of war would give you a higher tolerance to this sort of thing.

The thing is, it really wasn't Cellbit's fault. He had been there the longest of any of them, starved and beaten and forced through their cruel experiments since he had been a teenager. He was angry and desperate and hungry, and it was pure bad luck that Pac had happened to be the closest to him when the "researchers" had decided to test the effects of whatever combination of steroids they had injected him with. The ghost of his leg twinges in pain as it remembers the feeling of sharp teeth tearing through it's flesh.

"Wait so did Cellbit..." Fit hesitates, like he can't quite put together what he means to ask. "So he, bit your leg off? but how does that even-" He's interrupted by Pac giggling, and after a moment he joins in quietly with a confused laugh of his own.

"No, no he- he just did enough damage that the sci- that the jailers had to amputate it. And it wasn't that bad honestly, I mean, they weren't kind enough to knock me out before they started sawing but at least I didn't die!" His amusement at Fit's horrified reaction to his nonchalance almost drowns out the echoes of grief that his heart sounds for one of his fellow prisoners who hadn't been so lucky. Pac puts on a wide grin, forcing himself to perk up from his slumped posture. "So anyway, that's the story! Pretty cool don't you think?" Fit sputters a shocked laugh.

"Pretty- Yeah, sure, Pac. That's- *cough*- that's cool, yeah." It's a joke, obviously, but warmth washes over him anyway at the way that Fit lets him control the weight of the conversation like always. He wouldn't be able to handle trying to talk about his past seriously, and he's grateful to whatever higher power may or may not exist for bringing him Fit, who not only cares but understands despite being a human, and who always without fail meets him wherever he needs to be at. Pac doesn't know what he did to deserve a friend like him. "So, okay," Fit's voice snaps him out of the appreciative haze he had fallen into. "How did you guys get out? Were you released, or rescued, or..." He trails off, eyes imploring him to go on. Pac feels his face light up at the opportunity to discuss his favorite part of the tale - the only part, he likes, really.

"Oh, you're not gonna believe it. It was Richas! He actually saved us!"

"What?" Fit exclaims in elated disbelief.

"Yeah! So ok - they were keeping him prisoner too, but he was just a baby, like a, a toddler right? And the guards that were assigned to him treated him like their own kid-" Minus the horrible inhumane experimentation, of course. "- and he somehow, he figured out how to use their sympathy to get them to tell him where they kept all their keys," - and all the pelts - "and then managed to convince them to let him play with us alone. So he came to me and Mike and told us, so we told him to steal us some guard uniforms and figure out where the breaker box was, and after some planning and waiting for the right time we were able to escape by having him shut off the power and filing out with the rest of the guards! Mike wanted it to just be the three of us but I told him we weren't leaving the others behind." For all the suffering they had been put through it had honestly been comically easy - the facility they were at was small and not well guarded, probably funded independently considering that if any powerful government had proof of the selkies' existence everyone including the scientists would have been in a much bigger mess - the world was already at war, Pac doubted anyone was eager to add another variable to the conflict.

Fit crosses his arms and sits back, nodding in amazement. "Huh, so little Richarlyson is a hero! That's crazy"

"What, you don't believe me?" Pac shouts in mock offense.

"No no no I believe you! That kid is a fighter, I know it. So you guys all just stuck together after that? What about Bagi and Forever?"

"Ah, so- Bagi and Cellbit, they're brothers, or uhm- they're brother and sister, yes? And Bagi had been searching for Cellbit since he was taken, and somehow she ended up at the place we were being kept just a few days after we escaped, and she was able to track us from there. She's crazy smart, Cellbit and her both are. And Forever," Well, truthfully, Forever had just swam up to their pod and started playing with Richas one day while they were searching for a new home, and then the two had become inseparable so he just... stuck around. But Pac wasn't sure how to spin that into something that sounded reasonable for a human family, so he just went with "Forever just showed up one day and wouldn't leave." Fit laughed again at that, and this time Pac laughed with him.

It felt unbelievably good to tell Fit about his story like this, even with parts of it changed. Still, he wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth of what he was - he almost did, right then and there, swayed by the sound if his laughter and the mirth in his eyes. But, he reminded himself, that had to be a family decision; it wasn't just his secrets at stake. It was all of them, and as much as he loved trusted Fit and would be happy to gamble his own safety on that trust, he wasn't willing to risk his whole family.

...But, it would be so much easier if he could just say the whole truth. He wonders if Fit would react with the same attentiveness and amazement he gave to Pac's storytelling.

The rest of the day passed with little more of note, mostly filled with idle chit chat and card games. As Fit tries to teach him how to play Kings on the Corners for the third time, Pac finds himself thinking about how much Fit was changing his life without even realizing. A few months ago, Pac had never wanted or even tolerated human company that wasn't absolutely necessary. But now, he couldn't imagine not having the veteran around to occupy his time. In fact, when Fit had taken his first two-week relief back on shore after two months of service, Pac had felt inescapably lonely even when surrounded by his pod. Not even Richas, who had also been upset over the Ramon's absence, had been able to completely cheer him up. And while Pac's always been somewhat fascinated by humans, and had enjoyed watching the previous lighthouse keepers as they went about their work, he had never found himself as interested by any of it as he does when it comes to Fit.

"What is it?" Fit's voice snaps him out of it yet again, cards abandoned as he looks at him curiously. "You're staring."

"Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing! Just thinking about Richas and Ramon - what do you think they're up to?"

"They should still be hanging out with Cellbit, right? They're probably doing puzzles or something." Fit looks at the clock over on the left side off the room. "It's almost six, Bad should be here soon to take over for the night. Do you want to go join them and I can catch up?"

"Um-" Pac flusters, face heating up slightly. He's not sure why the emotional exhaustion of talking about losing his leg is what's bringing all these revelations to his mind, but he can't seem to pull his thoughts away from how much he appreciates the man in front of him. Which.... "Yeah, I think I'll go find them now! I'll see you soon?" Fit nods.

"Sounds good, Pac. I'll see you in a little bit." With a nod back at him, Pac shuffles out the door and makes his way down the tower. Instead of going to find Cellbit and the children, however, he beelines straight to the rocks where his pelt is stashed and hastily wraps himself in it's familiar comfort, sliding into the water before his limbs have even finished morphing into flippers. Surely a nice, solo swim is what he needs to clear his head.

...If only he could take Fit with him.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

For now, this is more than enough.)