#write my homework

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[zovie9638]

Hello, just dropping this here, see you every weekend,

Next part

[ahsokalegend]

Love in The Apothecary Diaries isn’t loud.

Our society tells us love is in the grand gestures, in perfection, in physical attraction and loss of self in the pursuit of lust. In a way, not too different from Li’s society built on sex as commerce where people are used and thrown away. The desire of a grand romance played before a crowd on jealous onlookers.

But love, true love is understated.

Jinshi doesn’t come to Maomao’s aid with blazing guns but a song titled “Echo II”. He walks to Maomao. She steps towards him.

It’s in the way Jinshi immediately falls back into his true self around Maomao

How Maomao starts cracking the driest jokes with a tender smile

How she misses Jinshi’s confused concern over her antics

Jinshi reaching for her bruised cheek. Maomao not shying away.

It’s the quiet. The calm of two people existing in their own world like the echo of a forgotten memory. These little peeks into a beautiful relationship built on mutual respect and care for one another. A performance for no one.

The Apothecary Diaries is not a romance, yet it is rooted in love. Love of friends, love of strangers, love of family, and at the heart of it all, the quiet love of Jinshi and Maomao.

[omniscient3teabag]

do you think if billy were to babysit babies/watch over them for overworked parents, probably to get some money and they were to watch movies. do you think they would watch some sort of movie that was/is matilda the musical and like.

you know that part of the movie where theres a line called "my mommy says im a miracle!" what if billy would giggle at that line and call the babies hes babysitting a little miracle if the baby were to babble (like,, billy: "Yeah! That's you!! A little miracle :DD") as they both watch it on the tv. and like what if this becomes a habit. because 'a little miracle' is a kinda phrase that sticks to you

and this carries over to captain marvel. and when, for whatever reason, one of the jl or yj members ask what they are to captain marvel he's like

"a little miracle, why? :D"

and that the person whose asking is like. "oh!" because wow thats. wow they have never heard someone say that with such genuineness before. especially one they see as a sorta. father figure thing

and like. they mightve ended up tearing up a little tiny bit afterwards maybe

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika is the pe teacher and reader is the English teacher and reader is sweet to all the students and everyone loves her but sevika is more on the strict side, doesn’t actually matter what’s the plot i just need teacher!sevika x teacher!reader😭🙏

HELL YES

men and minors dni

"jinx, the bell rang five minutes ago, kiddo. what class are you supposed to be in?" you ask as you walk into your classroom, blowing on your fresh cup of coffee.

this is your planning period, and you never mind having a student or two visit you, but you know jinx better than to assume she's here on her study-hall and not skipping class.

"please don't make me go, teach."

"dr. singed's chemistry class?" you guess. he's notorious for his harsh grading rubric.

jinx shakes her head. "no, no, i've got an a in chem." she huffs. "it's gym class."

you laugh. "you don't like gym? i've seen you run down the halls, you're quick as hell. figured you'd love that stuff."

"fuck no. sevika's a monster! she's making us climb ropes and do pushups-- i can barely carry my backpack to school, what makes her think i can do a fuckin' pullup!?" jinx laments.

you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. you gesture to the little corner of bean bags, blankets, and books in your class, then pull open your desk drawer. "you can stay. but if principal merdarda or sevika comes in here i'm tellin' her you told me it's your study hall."

"you'd rat me out?!" jinx cries. you grab one of the many bags of chips you store in your bottom drawer and toss it to her where she's getting cozy in the beanbag. she grins. "flamers, fuck yeah!"

"in exchange for my hospitality... you need to tell me why i saw your sister fighting with a cop at the gay bar last weekend." you request.

jinx gasps, her eyes lighting up in delight at a chance to gossip about vi-- a girl you taught a few years ago.

"you party at the hound?!" jinx asks with a giggle. you shrug.

"is that so shocking?"

"you're badass underneath that cardigan, huh, teach?" jinx teases. she stands from the corner and drags her beanbag across the classroom, situating herself in front of your desk and digging into her flamers. "okay, so, a year ago vi got arrested at a protest, right?" jinx starts.

you nod along in amusement at jinx's story, dividing your attention between her and the essays you're grading.

zaun high is small enough that you get to really know the kids that roam the halls for four years, and jinx comes from a big family with a gaggle of kids you've only ever adored. it's good to hear that her brothers are doing well, that vi's figuring herself out.

you blink up at jinx when she takes a pause between stories, snacking on her food. "so i hear you've made things official with ekko."

jinx turns bright red and she squeaks as she hides behind her braids. "shut up!"

"had to lock him down before he gets elected class president, huh?" you tease. jinx squawks.

"okay, well, what about a rumor i heard that you're dating another teacher here!" jinx accuses, pointing at you.

you giggle and shrug. "mmm... maybe... but you'll never guess which." you say.

jinx scoffs and rolls her eyes. "oh please, it's so obvious. you and profe ran are always giggling together." she says.

you laugh. ran, the spanish teacher, is a childhood friend of yours, but they're certainly not the person you're dating. "sure, it's ran."

jinx frowns and squints at you. "the new college councilor?" she guesses.

"ms. grayson?" you ask. jinx nods. you laugh again. "that's hilarious. isn't she married?"

jinx huffs. "well, i dunno! are you even dating anyone?"

the door slams open and you both jump, turning to look at sevika.

fuck. she looks good. you're pretty sure she's been wearing her shortest possible shorts just to tease you. she's been using the increasingly warm weather as her excuse.

"jinx! the fuck are you doing?" she glares at the teenager.

jinx jumps out of her beanbag and scrambles to collect her belongings. you giggle.

"put the beanbag back before you go."

"fuck." jinx mumbles, scrambling some more.

sevika turns her glare from her missing student to you, striding up to your desk. you bite your lip as you watch her thighs ripple with each step. "you're harboring fugitive students now?"

"she told me it was her study hall." you lie.

jinx groans. "you rat!"

sevika huffs and glares down at you. you shrug and blink up at her innocently. with a quick glance at jinx where she's stuffing her face with the rest of her chips over the garbage can, you hold up a folder to block your mouth and whisper up at your girlfriend. "my place tonight?"

sevika's glare melts for just a moment, and she gives you a half nod and a wink before tunring on her heel and smacking the chips out of jinx's hand. "c'mon, before i give you detention." she huffs, dragging jinx out of your class by her backpack.

"see you in third period, jinx!" you call. jinx giggles and waves to you. sevika flips you off over her shoulder.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[kukopelli]

Mermayy in the @daycarefriendpickup magma , fanart for my latest obsession "there are many benefits (to rethinking this career path) on ao3 by @moonliched !! Go read it's so juicyy

[v88sy]

This has got to be like...some type of copyright infringement. 🤣

[r-aindr0p]

Oh yeah like two days ago I woke up and I instantly remembered this guy for no particular reason

Green bike guy.....

[theogonize]

late nights and extra hours are annoying for most people. people who have to get home to their family members, partners, even pets. so naturally, increased enthusiasm to stay overtime was a sign of loneliness.

 there were two lonely people in the oncology department who hardly had anyone to come home to. you, that was more or less explainable by circumstance, you were new here and focusing on doing well at your high-end doctor job. but doctor wilson? you were sure he had a wife. this inference you had drawn from the wedding band on his slender fingers. this little article of jewelry was a cause of silent strife for you, stupidly so. you’re gorgeous boss was taken, of course he was; he was a respectable oncologist, diabetically sweet man who looked almost painstakingly beautiful in a lab coat. how does one look that good in a lab coat? 

but apart from musing about your boss, you often were in the clinic early and left late, running tests and working the scans. and he was there too, doing some paperwork in the office. he was always diligent with his paperwork, almost a bit too much, almost as if it was an escape and he was relieved when it piled up. another night to spend locked in his office and not in his bedroom, with his wife, as if she wasn’t even there. 

but you knew she was, you felt her presence even though you’d never met her and she never presented herself as a physical barrier. you felt her (or was it your conscience?) separating the two of you, like two like ends of a magnet repelled invisibly. you kid yourself into thinking if she wasn't there, if he took off the wedding band, if he was single – you’d make a move. sure you would. 

you usually refrained from bothering dr. wilson when he’s cooped up in his office, not wanting to disturb his peace, something he clearly craves when he’s here. but today you felt a little braver, for some strange reason, you felt a little valorous. so you let out a shaky exhale – none of those in front of dr. wilson – gathering up the courage like a middle school boy about to ask his crush out. you push the door to his office.

he looked up, slightly perplexed seeing you there, at this hour or maybe at all. he sat in his office chair, slightly angled, the joint paper and weed laying carelessly spread over his paperwork. his cuffs are folded up to his elbows, brazenly showing his muscular forearms. the light in his office seems to bounce off him. there’s a halo around him, there always is. you immediately regret your decision. stupid, stupid, stupid. to think you could do this, feel normal when he… when he literally looks like that. angelic. otherworldly. your voice is caught in your throat. it’s pathetic how much you want him. his face screws up in embarrassment as he begins to recognise you from the shadows; how could he not, you were his favourite.

unbeknownst to you, or anyone apart from house, really, you were his favourite. why wouldn’t you be? you were kind, pretty, intelligent. obviously, you don’t really like your employee for things like that, so he just said that you were a hard worker, you were perceptive around patients, you were always polite and punctual. an indispensable asset to his team. he was always wishing you would linger a little longer around him, so he could work his signature charm; the pathetic attempt he would make at befriending a desolate woman in the hopes of sleeping with her, as house would put it.

but maybe he didn’t have to try too hard with you, because he knew, everyone knew, that you liked him. maybe more than just your employer. maybe. and that was one of the only things that kept him happy. the possibility of you reciprocating if he ever made a move. 

after stuttering for a few seconds and almost falling over you hand him the test results, accompanied by the ct scan. 

your nervousness is rubbing off on him. it’s too late to hide it now, especially when he’s made such a mess on his desk. not like it matters, you know he does this for patients sometimes. he doesn’t need to be nervous. why is he nervous?

now that you had made it this far, you weren’t going away without some small talk. and come on, the topic was right there, partially rolled in his hand. 

“is this for the osteosarcoma patient?” 

that was your most recent one. room on the second floor, two months of radiation and the nausea had started kicking in pretty bad. wilson almost felt guilty for it not being for the patient, despite prescribing dramamine just a few hours ago. this odd moment of personal space invaded by you, and yet he sat here, welcoming it. because you were his favourite.

“uh no. it’s for me.” 

he wasn’t just welcoming it. he was inviting you over. he was being honest with you, encouraging questions. encouraging to fill the void, fill the space. the one you hadn’t created but certainly widened with everything you did. your desperation for his approval like his desperation for yours, a symphony made from the two most anxious, people-pleasing oncologists. 

you needn’t respond. your face said it all; wide eyed, mouth slightly ajar. you’d lost all train of thought, and maybe some respect for him, wilson figured.

“do you… want to join?"

how much more forward does he need to be? a man like him rarely has to make a move like this. women jump at the opportunity to be with him simply because he is him. the sweetest man. the perfect man. he, who sat here late at night, avoiding his wife, and hoping that his much younger employee would join him for a smoke. perhaps, in due time, a little more. 

“i- i don’t… i haven’t… i’ve never smoked.” 

but dear lord. it doesn't get any better than this, does it? you would have to be completely braindead to turn down an opportunity like this. does it scare you? smoking in your boss’ office? in the hospital you both work at? especially when he looks like that, talks like that and just is like that?

“i could teach you.” 

“if that’s okay with you… no pressure.” he adds as an afterthought. 

you nod, anxious. he gestures towards the couch, you comply. he grabs a lighter and joins you. your heart pounds in your chest. you pray to god he can't hear it.

you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. his eyes were so intense when they wanted to be, so expressive, conveying a thousand things and you, blinded as you were by his sheer presence, were unable to comprehend any of them. there was something about his face, his features, their softness. those pleading eyes, goddammit. they made you yearn for him uncontrollably.

his movements were slow and deliberate. the lighter flicked in his hand a couple times before it engulfed the tip of the joint. wilson watched you react to the flame, your eyes steady on the burning paper. he found it amusing how immersed you were, how new everything was to you, how exciting. he found himself wishing he could see the world from your eyes as he dragged the joint, turning his head away from you and blowing smoke in the other direction.

“your turn.” he said, offering it to you. 

your hands awkwardly try to hold the joints from different angles. ultimately, you surrender. wilson takes another hit as he watches you give up.

“i don’t think i can do this.” you bite your lip. fuck. you feel like a failure. failure at doing something reckless and stupid with your boss. failure at fun. “sorry.”

“don’t be.” wilson reassures you. he always does. you forget he deals with impossible cases like you all the time. “i’ll hold it and you suck in the smoke, for now, okay?”

you nod fervently. okay, this is okay. you can do it. you can have fun. 

his fingers caging the joint now reach towards your lips. you look at the burning paper and the green stuff inside it, then look at him for some sort of go-ahead. he doesn’t break eye contact. neither do you. you slowly put the end in your mouth, sucking in the smoke, like he told you to do. your eyes keep searching for his approval while his… they just take in the sight in front of him. 

you blow it out. the earthy, bitter aftertaste in your mouth. wilson stares at you, agape. 

he mutters a quiet good god before bringing the joint back to his own lips. you stare at them shamelessly.

“okay this time, suck in some air with your teeth and push it deeper… if that makes any sense.” he demonstrates as you watch him, committing every move to memory in order to emulate it perfectly. 

he brings the blunt to your lips, more careful this time, more focused. you revise the instructions in your brain and follow. the weed starts to hit the back of your throat, choking it. 

you cough out the smoke. wilson, being the doctor that he is, rushs beside you. his strong arms wrap around your body, he rubs your shoulder in soothing circles. 

“there, there. just breathe. exhale.” 

you nod amidst more coughs, making sure he knows you're listening. obeying. always. his hands begin sliding lower down your back, reaching the middle before they flex. his conscience slipping in, stopping him from moving further. you take a big breath. your head spins, falling back on wilson’s chest unknowingly. 

and he doesn't mind, as long as you don't. he smokes again, presses it against your lips again. slower this time, he whispers. you do, boring into his eyes. this time you're able to do it. this time the weed permeates within you. your shoulders relax a bit.

the to and fro continues. with each passing second, the tension grows thicker and thicker. every second you glance away from wilson's big, brown eyes is accounted for, remembered. all the moments you've taken away from him, all the moments the two of you could spend doing this, everything. 

he teaches you, he guides you. his eyes stay fixed on you, your swollen lips and how they kiss the end of the blunt. each passing second your body melts further into his, just the way he likes it. he hasn't moved his hand, he hasn't stopped embracing you. one hand on your waist, the other dragging the blunt from his lips to yours. 

“you're a natural.” he remarks.

“i am?” 

“almost as if you've done this before.”

you let out a soft chuckle. 

“i really haven't, doctor wilson.” 

you had to… you had to break the immersion didn't you? you had to ruin this perfect moment by reminding him of what you both were. wrong. unethical. wilson looks away, his expression unreadable. he feels you looking at him, thinking, adoring. 

his lips vibrate, his body aches. despite the smoke and haze, never had things been so clear, so simple. all laid out in front of him. never had it been so confusing, the line between love and lust blurring indefinitely, turning into the smoke coming from the burning joint, enveloping the two of you, bringing you so close. he felt the heat radiate off your skin. hot. it burned. everything burned.

for you, the lines were always blurred. they were unclear from the moment you accepted this job, from the moment you started this silly crush on your married boss. it was always deeper, always soul crushing. it always burned.

wilson brought the blunt close to his lips as you watched him move for the first time in a few minutes. nothing in the world seemed to be as important as his lips at this very moment. so pink, so perfect, so painful to witness without kissing. 

mouthful of smoke, wilson comes impossibly close. your eyes close involuntarily, afraid that if you see this sight you may never be able to live without it. he takes that as an invitation. his lips touch yours with utmost sensitivity. you tilt your head, giving him access, permission. and he takes it. 

your mouth fills with smoke, it pushes on your throat. but you swallow. you can't pull away now, so you swallow like a good girl. your lips move on their own. you can barely process wilson's weight on you, his hands on you, his tongue entering your mouth with feverish intensity. your hands move everywhere, anywhere. you have to feel it all, soak it all in, because this might be a dream, this may never happen again. but its happening right now, and it is impossibly better than you could have imagined. 

successfully out of breath and rock hard, wilson pulls away. the sight of you catching your breath, your chest heaving up and down, your lips swollen, wet. if he could freeze time, this would be it. he runs his hands through his hair. unbelievable. 

he puts out the blunt before he dives back in. he can't physically pull away. it's too much. like a moth to a flame, like metal to a magnet; the pull, the attraction, it's maddening. at this moment, nothing hurts. nothing's real.

[the-spideytorch-fanboy]

Spideytorch Influencer!AU

Peter is a political debater (think Dean Winters) and often goes up against people who oppose human rights. He is well-known for asking random supers what their stance is on random political issues. His most popular video is of him asking the Human Torch about his views on gay marriage (Johnny told him the only marriages he supports are gay ones).

Johnny also does politics, but he focuses on celebrities and which ones have done bad things. He has made numerous videos against Spider-Man for stealing his peanut butter and wearing socks with sandals. His most popular video is a random video of Spider-Man ranting about J. Jonah Jameson, while they hung out on top of the Statue of Liberty eating doughnuts (Johnny is a little bitter since he claims that he's made better videos).

They made exactly one podcast episode that wasn't aired because they'd started making out during it.

[unvrsoflyly]

i saw a tiktok that made me think of modern au till and it can't get out of my mind... so here's some ramdom small hcs :)

content - fluff, gn reader, might be ooc since it’s first time im actually writing for him, till being a sweetheart cause he is idc, established relationship-ish, lowercase intended!! english is not my first language and it isn't proof read, so there might be some mistakes

note - hellooo, wow i wrote smth after a year! till is my current obsession (thanks to all the writers who post till x reader content, don’t stop u feed my obsession lmao), im sorry y’all i felt like sharing my impressions on how he would be with his partner lol, enjoy!!

modern au till who would find himself drawing with you in his mind constantly. it doesn't need to be a portrait, you fuel his creative mind so there's always some pieces of you spread on his artworks.

modern au till who would always pour all is love into songs dedicated to you. his ability to turn his feelings onto lyrics and melodies became a second nature with time. it still amazed you how clear his intentions were while writing it.

modern au till who shares his art as a way to share his feelings better. they are always more clear since his mouth and his emotions always fighting with each other to express himself.

modern au till who would make a ring out of one of his used guitar strings after you gave him an crafted charm to put anywhere. you passed your time to make something reminding him of you? well, he’ll dedicate you his hours of practice and writing with his guitar by putting it around one of your fingers.

modern au till who would always turn bright red if anyone points out the charm attached to his phone, the one you made. he becomes helpless out of his artistic bubble and don’t know how to handle the slight teasing. what could he do? he loved you after all.

modern au till who might not be the most straightforward and public about his relationship with you just because he’s more comfortable in his privacy and you bet you are a part of it. grand gestures are not his forte, but he still show you his love in his own genuine way that feel so personal.

thank u for reading!! - all right reserved, please ask before reposting somewhere or doing a translation.

! art and character are not mine, credit goes to vivinos/qmeng

[luxaofhesperides]

Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically. 

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries. 

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham. 

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not. 

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native. 

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up. 

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras. 

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them… 

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is. 

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all. 

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything. 

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own. 

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort. 

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking. 

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight. 

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds. 

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight. 

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground. 

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading. 

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes. 

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924. 

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom. 

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds. 

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found. 

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling. 

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything. 

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface. 

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air. 

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes. 

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist. 

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch. 

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure. 

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping. 

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts. 

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow. 

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions. 

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen. 

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!” 

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before. 

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it. 

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER. 

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

[inbetweencoffees]

the first lit candle of the season🕯️🍂

passed my drivers license test!! now I’m trying to catch up on todays materials and hopefully I’ll find time to continue reading my book

currently working on: ethical concepts in the tora

to do: math homework, study for politics test

[naralovesangst]

Always going between "Courier and Benny would be the most toxic fuckers who are constantly trying to gain more power over the other despite the fact that they're co-rulers of the strip"

and "These two are the only fuckers who could match each other's freak, Courier Six would find out Benny has a foot fetish and give him a foot job as long as Benny would be chill with holding a gun against their head again while they do it"

and "these two would be the most insane hurt comfort holy shit, Benny would be the most attentive House Husband as long as it meant the chairmen were in charge and Six was walking home to him at the end of the day, mans finally safe without risk of being shot by house or the Kahn's or any faction in Nevada without immediate and swift vengeance by an army of securitrons, and Six finally has a home to walk to, not the remains of divide but somewhere safe and warm where their small family is."

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[clingyduoapologist]

On Annabeth Chase and Devotion

///

Text credit: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, book and show; Pjo wiki; Peter Xiao - The Role of Athena in the Odyssey; Annabeth - Wikipedia

Art credit: @/viria; @/natyourmuse; Yori Narpati