#so yeah i need some space

[makingshortstorieslong]

A little zine about how I (still) have trouble saying the word aromantic.

I've never made a zine before! I was inspired to try it because @queerliblib mentioned a zine making night in an email. That hasn't happened yet - its on June 26th - but once I had the idea, I couldn't wait, lol. It was nice to put something down on paper and have the finished product to hold onto.

Image descriptions under the cut:

Page 1: Three tiny speech bubbles say: "Do you have a bf? Do you like anyone? What's your type?" A big speech bubble says, "Oh, I don't date." The big speech bubble comes from a heart colored like the aromantic flag. 

Page 2 says: I could say: "Actually, I'm... ...aromantic." ...aro." ...aromantic asexual." ...aroace."

Page 3 says: But there are a few problems:

aromantic: Has been misheard as "A Romantic".

aro: Opaque if you don't already know the term.

aromantic asexual: A mouthful! And sounds...scientific?

aroace: shares The Big Problem: it may require a vocabulary lesson!

Page 4 says: It doesn't actually come up too often! Which is fine. My coworkers, my neighbors, and strangers don't need to know I'm aroace. I just wish I could say it sincerely when I do want someone to know. 

Page 5 says: I always have to smile - laugh - hedge. "Oh, well, actually, I'm kind of like, aromantic? Basically just not interested."

It's been more than 8 years since the first time I said it out loud!  I'm certain of it, but I still can't say it like I mean it!

Page 6 says: The most memorable time I said "I don't date" the guy I was talking to asked "Oh are you asexual?" and I said "Yeah, actually. And aromantic." And we moved on.

That was nice. 

Page 7 says:

The times I've lead with "I'm aromantic" -- well, there's only one I really remember:

"I didn't use to think that was a real thing." 

Other than that time -- even if I use the word, I always explain what it means first! 

Page 8 says: I just hope that one day I'll feel like I can say, simply, confidently: "I'm aromantic" and "I'm aroace."

The words "I'm aromantic" are big and dark green, the color of the top stripe of the aromantic flag. The words "I'm aroace" are big and bright orange, the color of the top stripe of the aroace flag. Three hearts below the words are colored to look like the aromantic, aroace, and asexual flags. 

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE AU: CHAPTER ONE

[MASTERPOST][PROLOGUE][NEXT CHAPTER]

PAGES:

21-23 , 24-27 28-31 , 32-35 36-39 , 40-43 44-47 , 48-52 53-56 , 57-60 61-64 , 65-72

[kyurochurro]

"gentlemen i believe... we are lost."

(entering the new year with a stv drawing since im still on a st movie kick from the marathon my dad and i had HEHE >:D)

[stellewriites]

my silver tongue, your golden eyes

female space pirate!gaz x reader

“let me go and we can forget all about this,” you bargained, voice shakier than you’d have preferred given the situation.

you were cornered down a dark alley and a wild-eyed man blocked the other end, slowly making his way closer, panting and grinning as he too noticed your predicament. trapped.

you’d incorrectly deemed him an easy mark and slipped your hand in his bag before disappearing - or so you’d thought.

the man had given chase quicker than anticipated and was faster than his broad frame indicated he would be, but you were faster, if only because you knew the area well and had the best shortcuts memorised. you’d known what direction you needed to head in to lose him, but the hairs on the back of your neck had raised several times during the escape and sent you in opposite directions instinctively; you must have slipped up when getting turned around and taken a wrong turn at some point leading you to this dead end.

the wall behind you was too high for you to climb but you didn’t back yourself flat against it either even as the threat loomed closer, you left room just in case you became desperate enough to try and scale it and needed the small run up.

“give me what you stole,” the man said, a scottish lilt dragging his words long and low. he held out his hand and curled his fingers in a come hither motion.

“think you’ll remember i gave that back earlier in our little chase back that way,” you nodded over his shoulder. the golden sphere - the map - was heavy and you’d thrown it at his head to try and lose his tail when he’d gotten a hair too close. he’d ducked out of the way, but hesitated chasing you to look back at where it landed, which gave you a leg up in the hunt. he didn’t stop to pick it up, like you’d hoped, but a few seconds was better than nothing.

and losing the star map wasn’t a total loss, it was one of many like it and it hadn’t been what you were after anyway. what went inside and where that could lead you was what made it worth anything.

“aye, almost took mah other eye out,” he said with a huff of a laugh, his fingertips pulled at the thin skin under his left eye to reveal more of the bionic replacement. solid, smooth gold until it flickered to your right for a moment and revealed the edge of the grey steel inner workings.

you took a half step back as he continued to steadily gain ground.

“so you’ll remember i don’t have what you want,” you insisted hotly taking another step.

you froze at the feeling of a blaster press against your ribs; it was a familiar enough feeling that you knew not to continue to run your mouth for a minute. the heat of the muzzle singed your jacket as its power core surged and bubbled - ready to use. it would’ve been burning against your skin, you had the scars to prove it, but was just uncomfortable through your current layers.

a soft, female voice hummed in your ear. “let’s not play dumb now, eh, beautiful?”

you shifted carefully to look over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of dark eyes and a sparkling smile.

“listen, i dont know what you think i took—“

“this-“ she reached over your shoulder and down your loosely tied shirt, her chilly fingers brushing along your cleavage until she pulled out the small vial you’d stored between your breasts as you’d ran. “-is what im after.”

she held the vial over your shoulder so it was in view of all three of you; small, hexagonal and full of what looked like white sand - stardust from the planet you were desperate to get to. she let out a heavy, breathy chuckle against your ear and you shuddered as her warm breath fanned down your neck and over your exposed collarbone. your skin prickled pleasantly and you snarled at the cocky smirk on the man’s face opposite you.

“she’s got quick fingers, gaz,” the man said.

“hm. my type of woman.” gaz pushed the blaster further into your side until you winced. “don’t think i’ve forgiven her yet though. march. follow him.”

“no funny business, lass,” he called out as he led the way out of the dank alleyway, looking both ways as he peeked around the brick before waving you both forward. he continued to talk over his shoulder. “i saw the way ye favour yer right side. don’t even think a’ using that leg canon.”

gaz knocked her ring clad knuckles against your left thigh and grinned when it echoed back a dull clang.

“you don’t have to do this. i can be on my way, you’ll never see me again,” you tried to bargain with lies again as she ducked close to hide the gun plastered to your side and to keep you from slipping out of their grasp between the busy crowds on the way back to the dock.

“s’funny, you seem to be under the impression im asking. that’s my fault,” she tsk’d. “you are coming with us, gorgeous. the only question is are you gonna come easy or am i going to have to carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

you swallowed thickly and didn’t think about that proposition for too long lest it distracted you. her arms were bare, muscles on show given her well worn waistcoat and lack of shirt, so you had no doubt she’d at least attempt to carry you. but you had more pressing matters to think about at that moment.

as you passed the smaller crews and walked up to her docked ship your heels began to dig in, reality setting in like a punch to the gut as you took in the size of it.

these were no run of the mill, petty criminals you’d crossed paths with.

“johnny, go check on the cargo, see how much is left to store,” gaz ordered and the man, johnny, jogged ahead.

no, you thought with growing panic. going by the amount of masts you could count and the dark sails tied to them, the size of the engines rumbling softly to keep the ship stationary, and the busy crew heading up and down the floating ramp, you’d fucked over a pretty important pirate.

you prided yourself on keeping your ear to the ground and knowing the biggest players in the game, and yet this woman matched no description or wanted poster you’d come across.

it worried you. the unknown was trickier to traverse and talk your way out of than even the worst of pirates you’d stumbled into.

“this is yours?” you asked as gaz kicked at your feet, getting you moving quicker again as johnny practically skipped up the ramp, a big grin splitting his face as he bumped shoulders with a behemoth of a man carrying a large crate.

“mm. for the time being,” she said noncommittally as you boarded the ship.

the crew, an amalgamation of all kinds of species, nodded to her as she passed by with you in tow, but you kept your head ducked low to avoid further confrontation.

she sat you down on the steps leading to the helm of the ship and raised an eyebrow at you when you huffed and glared at the rough treatment.

“spit it out then, good looking, how do you know about the map and the key?” she asked, blaster still held loosely in her hand, though hanging by her side and no longer actively aimed at you.

you eyed up the route back to the dock, you could try to sprint it but it wouldn’t be a clean run.

she snapped her fingers in front of your face. flinching your gaze back up to her you sighed through your nose at her unimpressed stare.

“my brother,” you started reluctantly. your eyes drifted without permission, flighty and nervous as your gaze trailed over her form, the ship, the crates and crew, the deep sky opposite the direction of the dock. “he joined a crew that were boasting about it in our home town. said they were looking for new crew members to search for it and share the wealth.”

gaz snorted and you looked down, embarrassed, tensing your jaw.

“it was a long time ago, we were both young. he didn’t know any better, just wanted to give us a better chance,” you whispered defensively. “but he never wrote. and he promised he would.”

“so you’re trying to find him,” gaz finished off for you, nodding along.

“for years i’ve followed the rumours, stories i thought maybe could be him, and they brought me here. i hoped i’d maybe bump into him along the way, hear his name spoken at least.”

“have you?”

“no.” you laughed, an empty and self deprecating sound. “i don’t even know what he looks like anymore.”

gaz looked you up and down, pausing for a moment back on your face as her own expression grew contrite.

“fuck it, it’s what cap would do,” she mumbled to herself. she tucked her blaster back into its holster. “right. you’ve convinced me; i’ll bring you along if you do as your told.”

you shook your head, a frown creasing your forehead.

“i’m fine on my own, i don’t want to owe you anything,” you protested.

“too late for that, handsome, you already stole from me once.” she cupped your chin with a grin and bent at the waist to lean close. “you’ll have to make it up to me to get back in my good graces, yeah?”

you yanked your chin out of her loose hold and shoved at her shoulder with both arms while her centre of gravity was off, tipping her into an unsuspecting crew-mate that was walking by.

in a flash you were up and running across the deck, a fierce grimace on your face as you slipped by the others, too late to realise they needed to stop you.

a hand around your wrist yanked you to a stop mere feet from the ramp and you swung back blindly, instinctively, hitting johnny squarely in the nose and managing to escape his grip.

“fucking— sweet mary and joseph!”

you stumbled back and twisted to get a good running start again, but you’d barely made two steps before you came face to face with the behemoth you’d spotted with johnny earlier.

though face to face wasn’t accurate; carrying a large crate in his arms, he unfolded his second pair from his sides to clothesline you without dropping the crate and sent you sprawling at his feet with a wheezing cough.

you blinked the stars from your eyes and rolled onto your side to try and ease the pain and struggle to pull a breath back into your empty lungs.

“good job, ghost,” you heard gaz say as she strolled up to stand over you. you were tempted to spit at her boots, but you couldn’t suck in the breath necessary to send the spit flying. instead you wheezed in a thin breath and looked up; wishing you hadn’t when she flashed that insufferably bright and smug grin. “i think we’ll have fun, you and me,” she said. “if price were here he’d have liked you too.”

“liked knocking some manners into her maybe,” ghost grunted before heading off to pile the crate with the rest. you didn’t see him stop by johnny’s side first, one hand reaching up to chuck his chin to check the damage or the pleased little smile he gave under the tied handkerchief as you hacked a racking cough as you tried sitting up.

gaz smiled placidly and squatted to your level.

“he’s right. you’re lucky we’ve not found him yet or you’d be dealing with more than a few bruises and the wind knocked out of ya for that.” she tilted her head and smiled a little weakly. “who knows, maybe he’s with your brother right now. seems like the kind of luck i’d have.”

she grabbed you non too gently by the elbow and pulled you up, practically dragging you to the captain’s room as you struggled to gain your footing. she slapped your back once and you sucked in a wet breath, then she rubbed your back soothingly over your jacket and shirt and closed the door to the private room behind you.

through watery eyes you looked at the half used room; the bed a mess of unmade sheets but the clothing drawers and chests seemingly unopened and untouched.

she pushed you down next to the desk while you were distracted and you hissed.

“stop pushing me around,” you huffed. she smirked.

“be good and sit still on that ample arse of yours,” she mumbled and opened a drawer in the desk. she rooted around and when she came up empty she opened a second drawer before finding what she was after with a small, ah hah!

before you could ask her what she wanted, she had cuffed your wrist to the closest leg of the desk.

you rattled the thick iron cuff and squirmed at her feet.

“couldn’t get the comfier set?” you complained, rubbing at the soft skin of your wrist beneath the rusting metal.

johnny and ghost walked in and you glared automatically, embarrassment at your position heating your cheeks. ghost ignored you but johnny, with dark, dried blood smeared under his nose and dribbled down his chin and neck, scowled back at you.

“laser ones cost, lovely,” gaz answered half distractedly as she cleared a space on the desk. “those can’t be so easily cracked open either. can’t imagine you have a lock pick in your boot but i know something in that leg of yours could disrupt weak little laser cuffs. i’ll let you go later, the key’s somewhere in here.” she tapped the desk.

gaz didn’t wait for you to reply and pulled the map key from her own hidden pocket and nodded at ghost to set the metal ball down on the desk. once he’d put it down, he leant over the desk with two hands flat on the wood and the other two on his hips. they ignored you, sat below them, and the angle you’d been chained meant you couldn’t subtly look to see what they were doing.

gaz pushed the hexagonal tube into the aligning hole in the spherical map, watching as it began to turn on its own as it got sucked in deeper to the centre. eventually only the cap was visible and it laid perfectly flat against the rest of the metal, imperceptible as a separate piece.

they waited a moment with baited breath and you watched gaz’s expression to gauge what was happening.

you heard the map click and a flash of blue light flickered over her soft face; you heard johnny swear.

“cursed skies above,” he rumbled with a gasp. “is that—?”

“yeah, i think so.” gaz nodded faintly.

“and you think he got there himself?” ghost asked. “without the key?”

“if price will be anywhere, its there,” gaz said firmly. her hand lifted delicately to pass through the light of the 3D map floating between them. her fingers danced along the plotted stars, the route they’d need to take to find john. “key or not, i know in my bones that’s where we’ll find him.”

ghost nodded and straightened up as johnny continued to stare at the map dancing along gaz’s hand before she dropped it and firmed her shoulders.

“we set off at the next toll of the bell. get the crew ready,” gaz said.

“aye, cap,” the pair of them answered, synchronised. you saw how gaz winced at the title but she nodded nonetheless.

you shut your slack mouth with a clack when she looked down at you.

“ready for an adventure, pretty?”

[luxaofhesperides]

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it. 

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so. 

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that. 

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts. 

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham. 

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal. 

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car. 

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie. 

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it. 

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it. 

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny. 

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief. 

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around. 

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge. 

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food. 

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall. 

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly. 

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all. 

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic. 

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.” 

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by. 

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down. 

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him. 

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment. 

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over. 

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her. 

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms. 

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries. 

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny. 

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief. 

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead. 

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind. 

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. 

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about us being shown Eddie developing his cooking skills before buck - that were shown Eddie being able to cook a full meal (and bake) before were shown Buck doing the same thing. And something something about that foreshadowing Eddie having his full feelings realisation before buck.

Eddie’s cooking skills are on display in 5x11 outside looking in when he cooks dinner for buck Chris and Taylor - and he’s baked cupcakes for desert as well.

But we don’t actually get shown buck cooking a full meal until the 6x01 lasagne. He’s only got as far as breakfast foods when he makes Maddie an omelet in 2x04 stuck but we don’t get shown him actively cooking again until he makes the lasagne.

After that its hit and miss on the cooking and baking front for buck - burnt lasagne in a 7 and I’m assuming his baking isnt that great in 8x07 by the way Chim has one bite and then pushes the loaf away before he masters the ziti, garlic bread etc in 807 and then later the scones in 8x08.

[gemallass]

Accidentally made a 1,198 words ficlet as a sequel of sorts to this post

Cross-posted on Ao3 too if that's more comfortable

Can you imagine that's how Stan finds out that Ford regresses? 🥺

Without waiting for a proper response to his knocking he barges into Stanford's room, after all, Stanley is a man on a mission right now: Making sure his very intelligent but also knucklehead of a brother doesn't miss on a proper meal, which, could end up in two different ways.

Case one, he has to wake him up. Or at the very least get him conscious enough that he can get a bearing of his surroundings, and, hopefully, not feed the floor too much of his food.

Stan doesn't care if Ford ends up falling asleep on the table while he cooks something up for the both of them. He doesn't care if Ford blinks one eye at a time and eats even slower, which delays the task of washing the dishes and has him counting the stains on the ceiling for the next hour. And he certainly doesn't care if he has to guide or even carry Ford back to his room when he, inevitably, ends up falling asleep at the table again.

So long as he's not starving and overeating later, anything is fair game.

Case two, he has to convince him to get away from his work, which is never easy. And after having had a few arguments over eating (turned) cold hard food, bringing the meal to said room and leaving him to it isn't an option anymore.

They both know hot meals are a privilege, why waste it?

But they also know that the habits that once helped you make it to another day are hard to get rid of.

Stanley also isn't balancing the plate on his lap, either, when there's a perfectly fine table in the kitchen. Thank you very much.

He complains, mostly to himself, no doubt, about how he can feel his stomach disintegrating due to not having put anything in it--never mind the fact that he merely woke up minutes ago--but stops abruptly when he's inches away from the end of the bed-couch. And with a hand still hovering above the covers, he finally takes in the scene before him.

His brother, the interdimensional criminal, certified badass, owner (and creator?) of a hundred spacey-looking guns and the man that went through hell at the hands of a yellow demon--who Stan also wishes he could turn into his personal punching bag to use until the end of times--and still got out alive, with most of his sense of self intact, even, was sleeping with a goddamned plushie of half his height.

And with a dark blue pacifier in his mouth.

Oh, he's so not letting dear ol' Sixer live this down any time soon. He rubs his hands together while a mischievous grin appears on his face at the mere thought of a few remarks and jokes he could do.

After all, Stanley is not going to miss the chance to expand his arsenal of things to tease Stanford with. I mean, c'mon, he looks utterly and completely adorable! What's Stan to do? Ignore it and break the sacred sibling's code? Blasphemy in its purest form, he says!

Plus, the guy looks pretty relaxed too, a whole change from the usual deal. And vulnerable, which, did also differ a bit from the usual.

Hm.

That last thought brings his previous scheming and snickering to a sudden halt. He takes a seat on a free spot on the couch, careful to not touch the sleeping man at his side, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let the peaceful atmosphere continue. Maybe even keep it from being disrupted.

Yeah, he could do that.

Because at last, Ford hadn't woken up at the slightest sound, and started pacing as if he hadn't been asleep moments ago. At last, Ford didn't seem to be fighting for his life when he was supposed to be the most relaxed, according to normal people (and verified by his fellow nerds). At last, Stanford hadn't jumped out of bed and taken the stance of a threatened wild animal when his brother, his twin, Stanley, entered his space. Something that he seemed to have learned for survival purposes--which Stan can also relate to--and that he doesn't really fault him for, yet that it came with a price when people close to you were involved. Hurting them one way or another.

Which, speaking of, he isn't sure if Ford would take kindly to him knowing about... This... That he does.

Stanley doesn't think anything about it. Really. Specially since it seems to be so effective on helping Brainiac sleep for once. And it appears to be harmless, so, who cares? Not him, that's for sure. But, if Ford had wanted him to know, he would've spoken or at the very least mentioned it, right? Back on the boat, there were nights where they slept on the same bed due to old not-so-happy memories resurfacing, or even just nightmares involving either them or the other, and they could use the reassurance that everything was and is okay and also that the other was safe and relatively healthy (some habits did start to catch up with them and did not mix well with the old man problems. (Cursed be the nicotine manufacturers on Stan's case)).

Did Stanford need it then and there but abstained from it to not seem "weird" in his brother's eyes? Please! Stanley ran a business in Gravity Falls for 30 years, for Moses’ sake!

Surely he knows that the jokes he throws at him are just harmless banter and that he never means it as a genuine attack, right? He must know he wouldn't judge him for something like this, right? Jeez, Pointdexter, I wouldn't hit you so low. Stanley thinks. Not again, never again.

Were it not for the--quite painful--pang and literal growl of his stomach, Stanley would have continued studying his sleeping brother and thinking about how to approach the topic. If at all. But alas, he's needed somewhere else. Somewhere with fresh food. And maybe coffee.

As gently and slowly as he sat down, he gets up, but freezes mid-way through when the still figure decided to not-be-so-still anymore. His brain scrambles for a way to book it out of there without making a sound while his heart beats in his ears. Finally, when he sees that Ford was definitely still asleep, and that he also feels his soul come back to him, he gives the rest of his body permission to continue working as usual. His lungs being the first to get back into action with a big release of air and subsequently an intake.

He glances back at his brother with a soft smile one last time before deciding to take his leave.

Stanford can have his secrets. Stanley would make sure to guard and protect them (and him). Ford didn't have to know that Stan knew, if that's what he had wanted in the first place. Stanley could keep his mouth shut.

Besides, it wouldn't be lying if it was never brought up. Nothing for him to deny, so, Stan is on the clear here.

. . .

Hopefully.

[character-obsessed-fem]

listen. hear me out. shadow not being able to talk properly and just mispronouncing/mumbling EVERYTHING when gerald first created them. i'm talking toddler/infant speaking level despite being like. above six years old when they first came out of that tube.

the adults who didn't like shadow using this as an excuse to ignore whatever the hedgehog has to say under the pretense of 'not being able to understand them', and not listening when shadow says they're hungry or that an experiment hurts.

maria teaching shadow how to speak and pronounce things right - it takes them a while, but eventually, shadow is the most well-spoken being on that ARK.

the adults hating maria for this because now they actually have to listen to what shadow has to say now because they can longer dismiss them due to them being unintelligible. they actually have to listen when shadow says 'that hurts!' or 'i want professor robotnik.' or 'i need water.'

and if they don't - well, shadow tells everything to maria, and maria brings up every little issue regarding shadow up to gerald, the lead scientist, who does everything to make sure maria is happy - which means making sure shadow is happy.

[asteroid-fruitcup]

copying the way you type is my love language

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Oopsie daisy, we accidentally spent almost 5 full hours in my room 🥴 damn I had truly planned on buying him a nice dinner after sex too

[mrehkka]

(I screwed up the text placement on the last page, read from professor membrane top left, down to zim bottom left, then dib top right)

Poor Dib lol

Btw i headcanon that zim has an internship at membrane labs when they're in high school. Zim talks to Membrane about Dib and them hanging out (he thinks the boys are dating and just not telling him yet) and the professor is hoping zim's "real science" attitude rubs off on Dib lmao

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE GREAT CITIES DUOLOGY by N. K. Jemisin.

[jula483]

no photoshop needed 😅

[ratinthevoid]

i learned recently there's a queer support group in my city... it may be impossible to get therapy here but there's literally free queer support group and that's probably what i need more right now... i just have to go. somehow.

[sideblogdotjpeg]

have been thinking about professor sol even. professor bufo with no clearly discernable lesson plan. sol bufo ostensibly martial arts professor who spent two weeks running a yoga and meditation program and shows up to the next class with crochet hooks for everyone. professor bufo who is technically supposed to be assigning grades to students but hasnt given anyone less than an A because "i think they worked really hard and they did a great job :)" (referring to the ugliest and most malformed pot holder anyone has laid eyes upon in their life). professor bufo who is on his way to cluelessly kickstart the sexual awakening of about half the cohort of the academys new students. sol bufo adjunct professor who is gone half the year and his first class back is so immediately and easily baited into going into a long tangent about how cool his friends are. sol who is pretty sure hes easily the most useless professor on campus and almost cries when he sees his little desk overflowing with thank you notes at the end of the year. professor bufo absolutely fucking gloriously hot in the tightest little sweater vest because there were faculty complaints when he wore a crop top to class.

[themagistersbirthright]

i have so many tag games to do when i finally make my inquisitor and rook