#then again so is he so it makes sense

[spoopdeedoop]

king and harbinger, old and young

[sameboot]

Simon petrikov coping FAIL compilation

[soosoosoup]

treasure planet au, last of the batch (Poppy & Floyd)

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[just-null]

wrestling to be the first to greet you (they broke into your house)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[time-slink]

out here playing dress-up

[claudia-lioncourt]

If you were the last vampire on Earth... it would be enough. You and me. Me and you.

[turtleblogatlast]

Draxum somehow salvaged some of his notes and papers from when he first acquired the turtles, and out of “the goodness of his heart” (aka because Mikey begged him nonstop for a solid three hours) Draxum saw it fit to give them each their corresponding paper.

They were enlightening, to a degree, though it was kinda crazy seeing baby versions of their pre-mutation selves stapled to the corner of the paper.

When Leo got his paper, he grinned at his “super cute baby self” and shifted his eyes to read up a little.

Sure, there was the expected long drawn out essay about his role and place in regard to “world domination” or whatever that Leo skimmed over and proceeded to ignore thanks to the excess of way too big words, but what really caught Leo’s eye was the basic description of himself at the top of the papers.

There was his species, what seemed to be a number (either 2 or 3, Leo wasn’t sure since the bottom was burned a bit), his size (tiny!!), and then, right below those…

‘SEX: F’

…Leo blinked. Then blinked again.

“Draxum.” He said, getting his brothers’ attention.

At the lack of response, he looked up.

“Draxum.” The sheep Yokai walked away faster. “DRAXUM.” He was jogging now. “DRAXUM WHY DOES IT SAY ‘F’?!”

Draxum was booking it away from them as Leo gave chase, shouting about how “IT EXPLAINS A LOT BUT I NEED SOME ANSWERS! DRAXUM! DON’T YOU RUN AWAY I JUST WANNA TALK-“

There was flashes of blue light, then silence.

The others stood there, wondering what just happened before shrugging it off and using their baby photos to go and bribe Splinter with.

[aardvaark]

the leverage team would have had a games night… once. everyone cheated so much and in such increasingly extreme ways that all mentions of monopoly are banned in their headquarters (this makes talking about marks who monopolize the market very confusing)

[myuminji]

two people come to a realisation that day: one with joy, the other with sorrow. both are doomed by their realisation.

thinking about the idea that wolfwood just gets so devastated how vash, someone he cares about so much, could treat himself like that, and gets overwhelmed by the realisation that he can't do anything to stop him. how he loves this person but he can't do anything about it. how he loves this person and he can't do anything about it either.

and then there's vash who completely on the opposite end—found someone who cares enough for him when he doesn't anymore, and he can't do anything to stop it. it's too late, he knows it, the person will now shed tears in his stead.

(he realises it's too late to stop him, or himself. the gears on the clock turns again. and again. and again. it never strikes.)

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[superhell]

house md is wild because house tells wilson that he’ll sacrifice many things but never himself and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[myoonmii]

I keep thinking about Merlin’s love for Arthur and how it’s so clearly portrayed in the show to the point that it practically drives the plot of the show. However when it comes to Arthur’s love for Merlin it’s more subtle and sometimes difficult to even grasp, and I started thinking why that was, aside from the obvious fact that Arthur has a lot of trouble expressing his emotions affection or otherwise. I think it also lies in the fact that Merlin knows Arthur intrinsically throughout the show; he is one of the closest people to Arthur, and sees him for who he really is. Arthur admits as much.

Sure, Arthur knows Merlin but the main part of the plot is that he really doesn't know Merlin. Merlin wants him to desperately understand him and “see me for who I am” but he can't yet. And I think this subconsciously creates a barrier in the way in which Arthur can care for Merlin, and how Merlin can let himself be seen by Arthur.

Which is why I think he was also so hurt when the magic reveal happens because more than the betrayal of Merlin having magic, it was the betrayal of Merlin not letting Arthur see him for who he really is and for hiding a main part of himself. Arthur says it himself “why did you never tell me” that’s what hurt him the most.

I think the most damning piece of evidence for this is the fact that while we see snippets of Arthur’s feelings for Merlin thought the show, the biggest signs are in the last episode after the magic reveal; in which he finally gets to understand Merlin, and this time REALLY know Merlin, and as the barriers of what held them back from understanding each other truly fall away, Arthur evidently “falls in love with Merlin all over again”. We see him actually express himself to Merlin.

This is another reason why I think if anyone was ever to create another season of Merlin after Arthur’s return, it’s physically impossible not to make it about Merlin and Arthur acknowledging their feelings for each other. Because there is no way forward without them acknowledging how deeply they care for each other, obviously anyone is free to argue what kind of love that is, but its impossible not to see the deep love there either way.

They always knew they loved each other, just maybe never realising how much and what that means, because its almost second nature to everything that they do.

[pettyprocrastination]

The Revenant Wife

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death. 

Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 

Word count: 1.6k

Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk​ <3

Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories​ @thesadvampire​ @joel-mlller @softanon​ @max--phillips​ @captainsamwlsn​ @hooplahoopla​ @moondirti​ 

-------------------------------

Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife. 

Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all. 

She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more. 

“You’re married?”

She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters. 

“I was.” 

There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps- 

“What was she like?” 

But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings. 

“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile. 

Damn this girl. 

“Not even from you?” 

Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away. 

“Did she cook?” 

Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning. 

Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise. 

“From time to time.” 

There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with. 

Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved.   Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both. 

In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work. 

But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to. 

Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through  the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family. 

Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father. 

Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends. 

When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights. 

You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.

You’re mean. 

No. Mean isn’t the right word. 

Cold. Yes. you're very cold. 

Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak. 

She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do. 

You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face. 

You’re also very pretty.

“I won’t ask again.” 

The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them. 

She wonders if Sarah had brothers. 

“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.” 

Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air. 

“That true?” “What?” 

“Is he telling the truth?” 

The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you. 

But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene. 

And she understands. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out. 

You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie. 

But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder. 

“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit. 

She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward. 

“You know this psycho?” 

Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react. 

Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why. 

“She’s my wife.”

You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them. 

Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation. 

But this one is real. It’s yours. 

 There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”

Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her. 

“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-” 

Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-” 

“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.” 

You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him. 

But at your order, he sits back in his chair. 

You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder. 

At least. She thinks he’s your son. 

Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods. 

“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.” 

They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement. 

“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”