#is fully realized in that fic

[tea-time221]

wyllstarion chronicles

i ran out of wholesome wyllstarion ideas so i decided to shitpost because i physically cant stop drawing them (this is a cry for help ples give me drawing suggestions thank u)

[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.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i have this really stupid idea in my head that im frankly a little obsessed with and the idea is this: trent crimm doing a drunk history episode on ted lasso's first tenure at richmond. is that how drunk history works? i don't think so. do i care? absolutely not. it's a special episode who cares because this image is not only hysterical to me but treasured. i treasure this image. i hold it close in my heart and also laugh and laugh and laugh.

[irenespring]

Why when I'm trying to work on an "A Clearly Discernible Line" chapter do I suddenly get a Research series fic idea. Why. Why does this happen. I don't like it.

The Research fic idea is basically a Wilson version of "Data" where he has a difficult talk with his therapist and then has an important therapy assignment that ends in fluff. The fic would likely center on parentification, emotional neglect, and why Wilson compulsively shoves down his own needs and doesn't let anyone past his "everybody's favorite nice person" mask.

I'd want to dig into parallels between House and Wilson (House creates an aggressively unpleasant facade to distract from vulnerability and empathy, Wilson creates an aggressively pleasant facade to distract from the things about himself that he things are bad but which are often understandable and morally neutral [depression, queerness, basic human needs]).

Also I want to explore Wilson's childhood, including how he was parentified and made his brother's caretaker (because the situation of Wilson being solely responsible for his brother's needs even after Wilson left home did not spawn when his brother was diagnosed [which would have probably been when Wilson was already in college in another country], Wilson's parents must have expected it of him because of a pattern that existed for a long time), and then often emotionally neglected and ignored ("James isn't any trouble he just does fine on his own, he doesn't need anything") when he wasn't caring for his brother (the only way he could get real praise). Basically all this resulted in Wilson having little concept of his own needs and wants and being wired to think the only way to get people to care about you/want you around is to take care of them. Add the trauma from "Hypothesis" and now he thinks pleasing people is also the only way to be physically safe...and wow, yikes.

Anyway, it would probably be the standard Research hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending deal. I want to write House actually realizing that Wilson's "eating neediness" is actually indicative of something that could cause Wilson real pain.

No promises at all that this will be written (in the near future all energy is still on the fic that I am currently publishing), but I needed to write the idea down and really think about it so tomorrow I can get some "A Clearly Discernible Line" writing done.

[oneluckydragon]

got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++

“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…” 

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

I’m literally a destiel survivor that got sucked into the gay firefighter queerbait show and I’m being so brave about it you don’t get it no one gets it I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending

[morelikesin]

IT'S BARBIE AND KEN!

🩷 Reference picture below cut 🩷

[bacchuschucklefuck]

laying here spinning in my head 1/adaine's new gf meets riz for the first time fic or 2/riz and baron fake dating for event thing fic maybe I just wanna think abt future stuff for my guy. just pure thinkin bout him chillin kickin ass

[liamlawsonlesbian]

first line tag game!!

tagged by @3ncr1pted, @foggieststars, and @newbromantics!!! thanks, friends <3333

post the first line of your last ten fics:

grow the apple, keep all the seeds - Charles isn’t really expecting Nico to approach her on her first grand prix weekend.

2. still high (with a little feeling) - Lando might have a thought.

3. you don't have to know that it's haunted - Charles may technically only have brothers, but he is part of a sisterhood.

4. are you down? (can you let me know?) - Oscar is pushing his luck. 

5. i don't wanna miss you tonight - Max really tries not to let it get to him. 

6. i can feel the sun on you - Article, People Magazine, February 1, 2023: Prince Charles of Monaco to Tour the Americas The Hereditary Prince, Marquis of Baux, is set to go on his first official trip overseas since his successful European tour in 2021.

7. no such friend - Charles’s brain is loud, too loud.

8. would have loved you (in a day or two) - It’s late on a Wednesday night in Qatar.

9. canine teeth in the side of my neck - The stupidest people in the world are the journalists who ask Max if he is tired of winning. 

10. "Lance Moi" (n): Deux Moi but Good, Actually - Lance first learns what Deux Moi is when it starts posting rumors about his teammate dating Taylor Swift, of all people.

(I'm going most-recent to least-recent, I don't think anybody cares but it feels important to me to explain the order)

tagging @blorbocedes @oscarpiastriwdc @bright-and-burning @nyoomfruits

[yourplaceinaugust]

soulmate au where benny and erica are soulmates and ethan and sarah are soulmates and rory doesn't have a soulmate. but benny is gay and erica is a lesbian and ethan and sarah realized they're better off as friends. so together they say screw the universe and then benny, rory, and ethan get together and erica and sarah get together.

[justworthlessreblogs]

Unironically here for the tangled au I want to eat it

and so you shall feast. you have no idea how long i've been keeping this in i've wanted to talk about it so bad (it was originally gonna be a surprise fic while u all waited for finale. i thought it was gonna be 5k. it was not 5k.)

i call it the riopunzel au because rio's the rapunzel in this au. and yes he has the 70 feet of hair

why is rio rapunzel, you ask? because noir is the perfect fit for gothel. also riopunzel is a really funny pun. the pun is literally the reason this au exists in the first place. i was falling asleep one night and my brain went "hey you know what an au where rio was rapunzel would be called? riopunzel" and i went "oh my god. i have to write this down" and the rest is history

this makes ciel flynn, of course! kirarin is her real name. she's the princess of the kingdom of ichigoyama, but is currently on the run because she may or may not have stolen a certain crown

the reason she stole the crown is because she's looking for her twin brother who was kidnapped shortly after they were born. she's got this grand fantasy in her head of finally finding him and presenting him with the crown (it's her brother's. she has a matching one) and then they can all live happily ever after. mom said no we are absolutely not doing that that's too dangerous so she went Fine I'll Do It Myself and ran off. absolutely nothing is going to go wrong with this plan at all

to be fair the crown is technically her property anyways

their mom is lumiere. she's the queen, ofc. and no noir is NOT the father we are noirlumi haters in this household. i have no idea who the dad is there aren't really any canon characters i could use and i also don't want to invent an oc. so there's no dad in the picture

lumiere is understandably very protective of kirarin after losing her son, which is part of why kirarin runs off

yukari is the horse except not a horse. she's co-captain of the royal guard. lumiere sent her to track down kirarin and drag her back

akira is yukari's wife and the other co-captain. she's more of a background character but she does show up very briefly

aoi is the daughter of the noble house tategami. she plays in a street band, not that her parents know. she and ciel kinda know each other from events but never really spoke much. she only gets a cameo (sorry aoi)

himari also only gets a cameo (sorry himari) but i picture her as some sort of sweets scientist (maybe like varian from the series but with sweets instead of alchemy? and no villain arc. i haven't actually watched the show so that's all i know about him sorry if i just failed varian 101)

ichika is just a townsperson (sorry ichika)

the ciel de reve is the snuggly duckling. ciel took her alias (ciel kirahoshi, of course) from its name. it's one of her favorite places to hide out when yukari is especially hot on her trail

bibury is a server/bartender at the ciel de reve. she's a lot more well adjusted in this au! riopunzel!bibury was found and taken in by chourou around the age of 6 and got to grow up happy and healthy :)

cielbib have a situationship

chourou's granddaughter, pekorin, also helps out at the ciel de reve from time to time

chourou owns the place but since he's getting old it's pretty much bibury's tavern by now

everyone's aged up a little, the middle school gang is now 17-18 and akiyuka are 21-22. pekorin is like. 11. also everyone is human

eliso and grave are the stabbington brothers, but ciel never teamed up with them so revenge isn't a motivation. they're just in it for the money, especially grave

noir is World's Shittiest Father but what else is new

ciel's natural hair color is blonde, but she dyes it pretty regularly to disguise herself. rio's is his original civilian persona's black-blue color, but the flower makes it the pale blue color it was as julio. as in tangled canon when it's cut it reverts to that black-blue

he's referred to as julio for most of the au, because that's what noir called him. his birth name is pikario ofc

for the most part the story follows the events of the movie. it's more of an exercise in "hey wouldn't it be really funny if i put the characters in this situation"

[cuubism]

Déjà vu, Déjà connu

Chapter 3/11. 20k. E, Sexual Content, Secret Identities, Romantic Tropes, Developing Relationship. The "what if Eleanor was actually Dream in disguise" fic.

Chapter 3 - Eleanor, Part II.

The story of this marriage can't last forever. But Dream will enjoy it while it does.

Read from the beginning on AO3

[ cover image: The Kiss by Edvard Munch ]

[moonshynecybin]

In a reconciliation world, what do you think it would take for Vale’s whole entire brain to jump in there?

Like you say he is repressing the fact that he’s in love with Marc. What makes him say: Ohhhhhhh that’s what that was.

THIS ONE IS HARD ummm see the thing is. they havent reconciled in the last 8 years.... and well. a large amount of history resentment and ego is preventing that from happening. which means we are left to theater of the mind to heal one of the most entrenched sports divorces EVER. one that has become a major part of their respective legacies and has been highly publicized by them both. so theyve got a lot on the line if they want to reconcile. and ive said that i DO think it should be valentino to make the first move here but um. well. i genuinely dont know how to get him to that point ! ive got amporphous ideas about a post-retirement crisis/re-evaluation (helpfully dovetails with marc having the worst time vis a vis his injury), them being in forced proximity and remembering they have insane chemistry/the same sense of humor, marc publicly looking like a slut, and many other somewhat plausible scenarios but until it happens (IT WILL. please please please youre nothing) im just throwing darts at the board.

[comfortlesshurt]

brutally reminded that somewhere out there is a physical copy of an absolutely terrible detective conan genderbend au i wrote when i was like 12

i am not thriving today so here's a tag rant

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

Working on a Switched-at-Birth AU (not the show) with Danny and Tim but I just wanna make it clear to anyone who’s interested in this (whenever I finish writing what I can i’ll post) that Switched-at-Birth doesn’t mean they experience exactly what the other did in their life.

That’s the TLDR while my anxious overcompensation is below if you want that

Lots of things are blatantly different, especially for Daniel Wayne. Just because you see a lot of what looks the same on Tim’s side doesn’t mean that it isn’t very different just like with Danny. There’s only one-two Canons with Danny Phantom. There’s TOO MANY with DC content containing Timothy Drake. I can’t exactly match their lives even if I wanted to and I don’t.

So just- if you’re a like a purist or something for Tim Drake’s life then please make sure you keep in mind this ISN’T Tim Drake it’s Timonthy Fenton and Daniel Wayne.

Nothing is exactly the same even if lots of it does seem it at certain points. I point this out cuz I know some of Tim’s major life points won’t happen and some of his major character traits may not show up initially or in the same ways as is known typically.

Same goes for Danny but I’ve never seen anyone get really torn up over his character being different in some way so… I’m inexperienced thus less anxious about it, I guess.

[tickle-bugs]

BUGS YOURE ALIVE!!! Could I bother you for some McKirk? Maybe some bed sharing?? For uh...mission related reasons? Accidental cuddling?? If it's not too much trouble?? Do these emojis help?? 🛏🤣🪶💘

Anything for you beloved!!!!

Suite-Hearts

Bones thinks defecting might genuinely be better than this. 

He’s not twenty anymore, the sight of his best friend shirtless doesn’t fluster him the way it used to, but it’s still…a lot, given the circumstances.

Circumstances being the honeymoon suite in one of the most notorious casinos in the galaxy, a room that couldn’t possibly be big enough for all the feelings that Bones had to fit inside of it.

The room is beautiful, granted—the entire far wall is a floor to ceiling window onto the glittering city lights below. Every inch of the place is plush in a way Bones can appreciate, even if it reminds him vaguely of a padded cell. Stocked mini bar, soundproofing--even a built in white noise stereo. The hotel had been sweet--they’d decorated the place with little hearts and champagne bottles, committed to celebrating the newly engaged couple they’d checked in as. 

But again. The circumstances. 

“Are you gonna glare at me over there all night?” Jim huffs and crosses his legs on the bed. He plays with his hair, still stringy from the shower. 

“I hate this.” Bones clenches and unclenches his fists to stave off the urge to pace. He tears down one of the paper hearts from the ceiling and crumples it instead. 

“Yes, you’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Jim sighs and leans forward, balancing his chin in his hands. “Honestly, Bones, I don’t bite. This isn’t much different than the Academy.”

“Uh-uh. We had bunks in the Academy.” 

“Bunks that we rarely slept apart in, usually. What’s up with you?” Jim drifts over, pretty eyes sloped with concern. The full brunt of the hotel’s fancy pine soap hits Bones. 

“Nothing.” Bones keeps his gaze on the floor. 

“If you hate sharing that much, I’ll try and swing a separate room for you. We can pretend we had a fight or something. I’m sorry.” Jim squeezes his bicep. Bones’s mouth sours at the apology. Jim isn’t apologizing for the room, he’s apologizing for his presence. Bones knows that tone of his and he despises it. 

“It’s fine. I’m just…not the best for these kinds of things.” Bones pinches the bridge of his nose. Guilt swirls and claws at the base of his stomach, making swipes at his throat to try and close it. 

“It’s just for a few days. You’ll never have to do another espionage mission again, scout’s honor.” Jim fumbles his way through the boy scout salute. 

“You were never a scout.” Bones huffs, but the promise soothes him some.

“Semantics.” Jim tries to crack his back a few times. “Want a drink?”

“Your back.” Bones furrows his brow. Jim makes a dismissive noise, scoping out the selection of whiskey and gin on the bar.

“Lay down.” Bones shoves Jim onto the bed with a eyeroll he doesn’t bother to hide. Jim squeaks as he hits the mattress and bounces higher than he expects—gravity’s just a little weird here and Bones can’t figure out how to work the in-room controls. 

He climbs up after Jim and settles heavily on his thighs. Jim grunts a little and Bones affectionately swats the back of his head. 

“M’fine. Really. I’ll go to the spa or something.” Jim hides his face, suspiciously shy, but Bones doesn’t press. Jim talks when he wants to.

“I’m not letting you waste money on that frilly shit. You want a free massage or not?” Bones gives his arms a fond squeeze. Jim nods, then deflates. 

“Where?” Bones reaches for the massage oil. He makes a face at the gaudy and suggestive label before pouring some into his hands. He rubs his palms together to warm it, breathing in the notes of lavender, sandalwood, and something else he can’t quite place. 

Jim makes a noncommittal noise into the mattress. Bones chuckles and smooths his hands up Jim’s back.

Massage therapy had been an optional Academy course but it had always been one that Bones enjoyed. It took a certain amount of trust in a stranger to allow them to know your body in that way. Bones wanted to be that stranger for people, he still does. 

And with Jim, well—what isn’t better with him? That’s comically, cosmically, the problem. Bones knows nearly every atom of Jim’s being, even the ones Jim hides from himself. That’s their deal. They are bonded halves, binary stars, and they care for one another. Even when they drive each other insane. 

“Pressure okay?” Bones hums, working into a stubborn knot near Jim’s shoulder. Jim moans and dissolves into the bed. 

“Quiet down. You’ll make people think we’re really getting a use out of this room.” Bones’s face grows painfully warm as Jim makes another terribly distracting noise. It dissolves into a chuckle. Bones squirrels the entire thing away into a private corner of his brain. 

“S’rry. Feels good,” Jim mumbles, pressing his face further into the mattress. Bones chuckles and continues his work. 

“Stop squirmin’,” Bones huffs, working his way up the back of Jim’s ribs. Jim wiggles around a bit but doesn’t say anything. 

“If I’m hurting you, you gotta say somethin’.” Bones leans down and murmurs, stilling his hands. Jim makes a string of noises, attempts to shake his head into the mattress, then settles on waving his hand around dismissively. 

“Whatever you say.” Bones snorts and smooths his palms over Jim’s warm, soft skin. He finds his lower back and starts over, working his way back up, then down, and up again. The rhythm of it takes them both.

“Doin’ ok?” Bones hums, leveraging his elbow into Jim’s lower back. 

“I’m in love with you,” Jim sighs, then groans, nothing more than a puddle of captain. Bones swallows the surge of emotion in his chest and concentrates on maintaining appropriate pressure of the elbow. 

“Sorry. For the next few days, I’m a taken man.” Bones skimming his fingers slowly up Jim’s back. Jim shivers and grabs fistfuls of the blankets. He traces patterns between mottled scars and freckles, a little lost. 

Jim twitches again, muffling something high-pitched into the mattress. It does, admittedly, take a minute for Bones’s brain to catch up, but once it does…

He slides his fingers ever-so-gently up Jim’s sides, over the back of his ribs, taking great care to wiggle against the ridges of his shoulderblades. Jim jumps, turning to admonish him, but Bones is back to the charade. He works his thumbs into Jim’s shoulders, then squeezes--just above the collarbone. 

“Well h-he’s a lucky guy--holy shit--”

Jim shrieks, high-pitched and frantic, and totters off into a flustered flurry of giggles. Bones has never in his life heard him make such a sound, not even when drunk. 

“What--”

“Bones--” Jim flips over and levels a threatening finger.

“--was that?” Bones smothers his laugh in his fist, but it bursts free when Jim’s face flushes adorably pink.

“You surprised me.” Jim crosses his arms and pulls a face. Bones raises an eyebrow. 

“I surprised--c’mere.” Bones starts tickling him in earnest now, nipping fingers chasing each sensitive spot he’s come to learn over the years. Jim dissolves in his hands, giggles quickly graduating to full-on laughter. 

“B-Bohohones!” Jim shoves lightly at his shoulders as he laughs, bright and bubbly. Bones uses the opportunity to slip his hands up to Jim’s collarbone again, giving another squeeze into the muscle just above. Jim flails, his knees slamming into Bones’s back--ow--and and descends promptly into a highly-entertaining octave of desperate laughter.

“How on earth are you this ticklish and alive?” Bones muses, skittering his fingers back to Jim’s stomach for something of a break. Eventually, he just pats Jim’s stomach and swings off of him. 

“I’m never letting you forget about this. Every time you’re being annoying I hope you think of my hand right here,” Bones grins, resting his hand on the spot. He tries not to read too much into the clear giddiness on Jim’s face. 

“Oh, you bastard,” Jim gasps, eyes positively sparkling. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

Yet, Jim does nothing but flop back against the bed. The extra high bounce shakes a few stray giggles loose. 

“I’m sure you will.” Bones pats Jim’s head. Jim shakes him off, grumbling under his breath. Bones snorts, squeezes Jim’s shoulder, and trods off towards the bathroom, ignoring the indignant screech behind him.

…

Bones wakes up warm, beautifully so. Jim’s arms wind around his torso and keep him close, strong and secure. Some soft and content part of him wants to lean back into it. He’ll never get tired of waking up like this. 

Bones turns slowly so he can see Jim’s face. He looks so different asleep. Younger, maybe. 

Bones allows himself another thirty minutes of drifting sleep, letting Jim’s gentle snores guide them into the late morning. The room chimes a soft tone around ten or so, warning them of their impending loss of breakfast privileges. He has half a mind to ignore it, but he doesn’t really know what they eat on this planet. Jim can be picky as hell when he puts his mind to it, and they’re both useless when they’re hangry. 

Bones starts breaking Jim’s hold, maneuvering him gently. The sleepy whining is par for the course, but the fingers worming into his sides? That’s certainly new.

“J-Jihim.” Bones clears his throat. “Let go, ya sleepy lug.”

Jim makes a soft noise and cuddles closer, decidedly not following instructions. Bones keeps tugging, but the more he pulls, the more Jim decides to tickle. Jim finds a spot on his stomach that makes Bones choke back a squeal, shaking both of them with unreleased laughter. 

“Damn pehest. Two can play at that game.” Bones huffs. He starts poking at his ribs, still gentle, as he wiggles closer to the edge of the bed. Jim smiles and starts chuckling, his hold loosening. Bones worms his torso out of the octopus grip and starts slowly untangling their legs. He gets about halfway there before Jim grabs his leg and starts reeling him back in. 

“Jim--”

Jim smirks and opens his eyes. Oh. Oh no. 

“Gotcha!” Jim cackles, pinching at Bones’s thigh with reckless abandon. Bones screeches, his voice cracking hopelessly. Jim flops on top of him and starts tickling wherever he can reach, taking extra care to revisit his stomach. 

“Y-You absolute—“

Thump. 

Bones’s back collides with the plush carpet, along with a few throw pillows. Jim catches himself at the last minute with a yelp.

“Are you okay?” Jim laughs and peers at him over the edge of the bed. He offers a hand to help Bones up. 

“I hate you.” Bones glares up at him. His lips twitch as he tries to resist the smile that’s already consumed him. He swats Jim’s offered hand away, then smacks him with a pillow for good measure. He goes to get ready for the day--someone has to be the adult here--but Jim grabs him by the waist and pulls him back into bed. 

“I love you too.” Jim gazes down at him with an unbearably goofy smile. Bones rolls his eyes, but his face is warm, so embarrassingly warm. Bones goes to get up, Jim shoves his hands under Bones’s arms, and round two sufficiently costs them any hope of breakfast.