#the ghost ship scribbles

[hmslusitania]

Ask meme! For TimKon, either 17. “Please stay.” or 34. “When did you know for sure?”

May I offer you: an angst with a happy ending? (who am I kidding; it's you, of course I can)

“When did you know?” Kon asks, staring out well past the horizon. Tim thinks that surely, he must see it, must be able to tell, he’s got fucking super vision of various sorts, but… But he sounds so dejected about it. Like he… like he hadn’t been able to tell. “For sure, I mean, when did you figure it out?”

“Um,” Tim says, and picks up a handful of sand on this very not-at-all real version of Kon’s favourite beach in Hawaii. “Last… night.”

Kon’s face burns bright red and Tim can’t really look at him anymore.

It all feels too real, even though this place isn’t anything of the sort.

And he’s pretty sure that includes Kon.

It had been a smart plan, Tim can tip his hat at the villain du jour for that, at least metaphorically. Trap Tim in a simulated reality, but instead of making it somewhere he knows inside and out, like Gotham, like Happy Harbour, they’d programmed him into a place he only knows in story and rumour. Tim wouldn’t really have any way of determining if there were differences between the real Hawaii the real Kon’s been talking about for as long as Tim’s known him, and this fake, simulation of it. And the programmers had done a pretty perfect job with Kon, too, except for the parts where he can’t tell that this whole place is a simulation, and the part where…

“My Kon, I mean the one who’s not a computer programme, because, like, he’s not mine, mine,” Tim starts. “He’s not… y’know. In love with me.”

Kon is silent for a minute, just staring out at the water and at the small waves lapping steadily higher up the beach while the sun rises. Tim would find this whole conversation a lot less excruciating if computer!Kon was wearing more than boxers with the House of El logo on the crotch, but, well, this simulation was designed to trap and torture him, so he’s not.

“I don’t feel like a computer simulation,” Kon says finally, and buries his toes in the sand like he’s making a point of feeling the sensations. “I remember — I remember meeting you when you were still Robin and I didn’t know who I was beyond Superman’s replacement, and I remember Bart, and Young Justice, and Cassie, and the Teen Titans, and dying and—”

“They probably built you off a brain scan of the real Kon,” Tim says. Tact and gentleness have never been his fortes but, fuck he tries this time.

“Right, and just, like, tweaked my memories so that I can remember being in love with you half that time, and the entire time I was lost in Gemworld, and—”

“Yeah, I guess they must’ve,” Tim says, even though it makes him want to puke. “This place is too… it’s too perfect. You’re too perfect.”

Kon scoffs, and makes a choked off noise that’s all too familiar after last night and Tim flushes with shame that he knows what Kon sounds like now. The thing is, it’s a very, very good simulation, and this isn’t knowledge Tim should have, because out in the real world, Kon doesn’t want to share that information with him.  It’s none of Tim’s business, no matter how desperately he wants it to be.

“Nice to know I’m apparently good enough in bed to convince you it’s all too good to be true,” Kon says, with forced bravado.

Tim swallows, because that assessment isn’t untrue, but it’s only part of the story. “Also I think my biometrics must’ve spiked high enough to temporarily overload the system, because a bird clipped through our room while we were, uh…”

“Oh,” Kon says, blushing even harder. “So, um, now that you know this is fake, does that mean you’re going to escape?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. He swallows. “I just have to crash the programme, make it generate something so insanely huge its processing power can’t keep up.”

“Oh, right, just that,” Kon says. He very gamely swallows, and because he’s built on a very convincing facsimile of Tim’s real Kon, he stands up and nods. “So what do you need me to do?”

**

Tim is not surprised when the explosion they trigger in the simulation tips him out of it’s destabilising pixelated mess into a sketchy futuristic lab. Spaceship? Probably spaceship by the black starfield outside the windows.

He is surprised when his own exit from the gel couch matrix situation is echoed by someone else in another matching chair thing behind him.

He grabs for any kind of weapon available and rounds the central structure, ready to strike, only to find himself face to face with—

“Kon?” he demands. “You’re here too?”

Kon defuses the heat vision that had been starting to build behind his eyes, and then just stares at Tim, blushing a violent red like the heat vision had dispersed through his cheeks.

“Of course he is here too,” an annoyed voice that gives major evil scientist vibes says over the PA. “The simulation traps work best when there are two parties within them to reinforce the shared folie à deux!”

“Sh-shared?” Kon asks.

“Both of us were in the same—” Tim starts, and he understands Kon’s blush better now because he can feel his own viciously taking over his face.

“You thought I was a simulation,” Kon says, floating out of his matrix plug in chair to loom over Tim even taller than he usually is.

“You’re in lo—” Tim starts, but their captor’s voice crackles over the PA system again.

“Yes, yes, teenaged angst. You may continue your argument once my assistants have placed you back in your simulation!”

“We’re twenty-one, actually,” Tim corrects. “And you can—”

He means to tell the disembodied voice exactly where he can expect Tim’s bo staff (as soon as he finds it in one of the cargo pods here in this space station situation they’ve got going on) but Kon cuts him off by pulling Tim’s face into his hands and kissing him.

No birds clip through the walls this time, and the sensation of Kon’s TTK sweeping over him, like it’s not enough to just be touching Tim with his hands, like he has to touch all of him at once, is one that Tim hadn’t been able to fully conjure up out of his imagination. It’s different enough that Tim actually forgets for a second that they’re imprisoned on a space station and have been under for god knows how long, and he seriously considers simply climbing Kon like a tree right then and there to get the actual physical details mapped out.

“I can’t believe you thought my love confession was a simulation,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s lips.

Tim hums and kisses him again. Really, actually kisses Kon. Who really, actually wants to kiss him, too. “I meant it when I said you’re too good to be true.”

“Good thing we’re in a really shitty situation we need to figure our way out of if we want to get back to earth so I can show you the real version of that beach,” Kon says. “Because that part feels pretty on par.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, and sighs. He can hear the distant thuds of whatever sorts of robocop automata their captor has coming towards them now, and this fight’s gonna kinda suck, he thinks. At least there will be one hell of a reward for making it through to the other side. “Ready to fight for our lives?”

“With you?” Kon asks, and can’t help himself but to pull Tim in for one more kiss. “Always.”

[izel-scribbles]

have some domestic holy ghosts. for the soul

plus my fav panels!!!

(also theyre eating tacos tinga de pollo because i said so)

[natelia-aldelliz]

They got tired of getting pushed over the edge because the bed was made for one and not 3 big adult men, so they dismantled the frame and put two mattresses together on the ground.

So now instead of the one on the side falling, it's the one in the middle getting swallowed when the mattresses inevitably part. They're not that smart. But at least they don't hurt themselves by falling now.

[lumilasi]

So I initially had a very different idea for the extra member for this group - and I will still make that one too, once I figure out what look to go for - but I had an idea for my space crew's main story that goes beyond Stefan's situation, and also ties Nadiya into it better, giving her more personal stakes than just being the Captain.

Now she's not just helping her close friend with her goal, but she also has her own reasons for it. Also yes, Illya and Nadiya are twins. ALSO, I think I wanna give Nadi a cybernetic arm too now, that'd be cool - and serve a story purpose in relation to her brother...

IDK if he'd appear in the MW crossover bit of their story, I feel like it'd be a bit like dropping the final boss of a game to the beginning third of the story? At most, maybe Curly and Anya might sometimes see glimpses of him, as their minds would be more vulnerable and thus easier to access...

More info about Illya below:

Illya's skintone used to be the same as his sister's, and you can still see the healthier pink tone around his eyes.

He suffers from chronic babyface as his sister used to joke; despite being 34, he looks like he's in his early twenties; he was often initially mistaken for Ava's Intern by the patients at the ship for example.

He used to be the head medic for Nadiya's ship, but due to a major accident and a mental breakdown resulting from it, he was taken in for intensive care by a specialized organization.

It turned out this group was conducting unethical experiments and had clocked Illya as a prime candidate for their "Nexus" program; they essentially turned him into a reality bending cyborg against his will, and made his mental struggles much worse in the process......

He was rescued from the facility he was kept at by her sister's friend Ava Moreno a year after he was committed; this happened the same day he'd finally snapped from the trauma and mental strain, his unwanted powers going haywire and causing a lot of chaos and death.

This was the same place Stefan Wilk was kept as part of another project, and Illya in fact did meet him and even communicated with him a lot with his telepathic abilities, because he'd seen his sister's friend in his mind.

Illya was Cherry Yun's mentor figure, but she took over the medic duties fully once it became clear he's too unstable and dangerous to be taken back into his position. They could not get him the usual means of help either - like therapy - because his current state was just too volatile to even attempt it.

They'd need to find a way to first stabilize his powers as well as "return" his mind back to his body properly instead of being stuck in-between Nexus and "reality".Illya went to cryo willingly, realizing this fact.

However as his Nexus Alter wanders, he's begun to forget this and other details about himself, which has caused him to slowly grow bitter towards his former crew and sister.

Illya used to have similar personality to his twin sister Nadiya, being highly intelligent, clinical with tendency to bend the rules to his liking if he believed that benefited the end goal, being VERY good at his job and being very reliable friend/mentor.

However, unlike his sister, Illya was more neurotic, suffering from undiagnosed OCD that manifested most strongly with fear of "not knowing enough" and therefore having something horrible happen under his watch, causing him to study obsessively just about anything he was interested in, to the point he'd neglect his own wellbeing. (He did also have the more commonly known symptoms like level of germaphobia, obsessive need for order, etc)

While his body is in cryo, due to how his powers function, he is able to project himself into people's minds, or sometimes take over the ship systems, hence he's often called the "Ghost in the Ship" by the crew.

Nadiya's warning about eye-contact relates to the fact that this is how he gets into your head properly; the projection you may see is just bait, he sinks his claws much deeper via eye-contact.

This is due to the version of him existing outside his body, in the in-between dimension dubbed the Nexus, and he can manipulate things from there to an extend (though he's not as powerful in this ghostly form as he would be awake with his human-cyborg body)

The only member of the current crew that can't see him is Mara, being the newest member who never met him personally; he tends to ignore her for the most part and thus doesn't project himself into her mind. He might still prevent her from injuring herself occasionally by taking over some of the nearby systems or turning them off.

His ghostly version can still be dangerous and volatile, which is why Ava has told the crew to mostly ignore his presence if they notice it, because interaction with him could trigger a violent fit.

Of course this can backfire as Illya feels abandoned by the people ignoring him, so it is a matter of balancing act; they need to analyze what the ghostly entity's mood is, whether interacting or not interacting is the safer option.

The person he tends to be the calmest around is Cherry, his former apprentice. She is also the safest when talking with him, as she's not very likely to provoke an angry fit from him.

With Nadiya it is a hit-or-miss situation, as they were always close, but he was also envious of how calm and stable she was in comparison.

He likes to mess with Stefan's head a lot due to him being more susceptible for it, with what Ava theorizes is his warped, twisted way of trying to "help" him to gain more control over his condition by exposing him to it over and over. (This is not something Illya would do in his right mind, back when they were in the same facility his communication with Stefan was much kinder and level-headed)

He rarely appears to Matthew, as they didn't interact that much, and had primarily a professional relationship, where Nadiya considered Matt her friend.

[roseyjustice]

Selfshiptember Day 3 - Relaxing

Two god like babies deserve cuddles so Ezra gathers them up for chill time !

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[deadsetobsessions]

Writing Prompt… kind of? Definitely write more if you want but this was a cute little “fic starter” that popped into my mind.

——

Danny didn’t know the first thing about art. This is an important fact.

“Sam, why am I even here?”

“Suck it up, Casper.”

“The show or the school?” Danny privately thought Casper the Friendly Ghost was the best thing to have come around. It did wonders for improving relations between Amity and inhabitants of the Zone.

Sam smacked him on the arm. “You know which one. You’re just here to be the normie judge. You don’t need to know anything about art.”

“Everyone here is like an art acolyte or something, Sam! I’m an engineering newb in a room full of people with art PhDs!”

Sam rolled her eyes and checked her manicures. “If you call Fenton Works newb level, then the rest of the world would be Neanderthals. Seriously that’s why you’re here. The art’s gotta appeal to the untrained eyes too. I trust your judgement.”

Danny gave in. “Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.” He followed after Sam but after a moment, he whined, “But couldn’t you have taken Tucker? Dude’s got four untrained eyes!”

“He’s busy with his internship. And you were already in Gotham.”

They reach the exhibition, Sam and Danny being welcomed in. Sam’s parents, while not the richest of the rich, were known art connoisseurs and respected people in the communities that dotted around the world. On top of being the descendants of the man that invented the deli toothpick cellophane twirling device, that is. Sam was standing in their place today- begrudgingly- because they’d promised to pay for an entire month of Gotham architecture tours and a trip to Japan. After all, Sam had much of their knowledge too. If anyone could say anything about the Masons, it was that they were passionate in their chosen field. L

“The contestants are in the room next door. The judge panel is beginning.” The person at the door informed them. He gave them a slip of paper and a pen to mark their choices in each field. Danny breathed a sigh of relief and began wandering around.

After he wandered between the oil paintings- “oo, this one. Reason why… the vibes are nostalgic. I like it.”- and the various depictions of a specific ship, Danny was pulled to a stop by his core reaching out. He looked up and what he saw took his breath away.

It was just a photo.

But it felt like he was there, on that rooftop, crouched among the shadows and watching the early rays of muffled light hit the tops of his city. His core thrummed. It felt like protection. It felt like he was being fulfilled, like Danny was once more becoming Phantom and that he was watching over this city he’s beginning to understand.

Danny, almost fevered, scribbled down the name [A Robin’s Nest- by Tim Drake] as his number one choice to win the contest over all. And, at least, to win the first in the photography division.

——

“Oh, Ancients, are you okay?”

Danny had wandered around in the interim as the votes were tallied. He hadn’t been paying attention when he smacked into a little kid that could have been his little brother.

“Uhm. I’m good.”

Danny helped the kid up. “I’m Danny. I’m sorry I smacked into you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yeah. I’m Timothy Drake. I’m good.”

Danny’s smile widened in shock. “Like the photographer? Oh, wow! I really loved that photo! It was amazing! It felt like I was up there with the vigilantes!”

As he spoke, Danny glanced around for the kid’s designated adults. Hm. That’s odd. Everyone and their parental figure was accounted for.

“Oh.” Timothy flushed. “Thanks! I hoped the judges liked it too.”

Danny smiled, a small secretive thing. “Oh, I’m sure they will. Will you tell me more about your photography?”

“Oh, if you want!”

——

[moongreenlight]

141 gossiping about Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley for roughly 3,000 words idk titles are hard

Price was the first to notice. Priding himself on being incredibly observant, especially when it came to his boys.

He noticed that whenever they had a break from trainings or meetings, he’d somehow always find the two of you in a room together. Never close enough to give him reason to say anything. You scribbling notes on a patient report at one table, Ghost at another, his chair angled just enough so that he could watch you from the corner of his eye.

Noticed the way Ghost’s hand rested on the small of your back for a heartbeat when you entered a doorway before him. Just a brush of his massive hand on you, quick enough to be mistaken for an accidental touch.

Noticed how Ghost’s eyes seemed to always flick to you from across the mess hall. Not often, but enough for Price to casually turn his head and see that same nurse Ghost seemed to have a preference for.

At first, Price thought he could help by being a wingman of sorts. When Ghost took damage on a mission, Price would escort him to medbay and watch as he dismissed nurse after nurse until you were finally available to treat him. Price lingered as long as he could before you inevitably waved him away, cheekily reminding him you always took good care of his team and that you’d have ‘Lieutenant Riley’ back in no time. The only thing he could catch was the way Ghost’s shoulders relaxed by a hair’s breadth when you drew the curtain shut behind you.

He tried again during a meeting with his boys. Suggesting they bring a medic on a mission with them. Said something about how it would be better to have the option of a patch-up readily available. Keep his team fighting fit in real time instead of having to wait until they came back to base. Price saw the way Ghost tensed slightly in his seat, the muscles in his jaw twitching under his balaclava.

The notion was quickly vetoed. Ghost grumbling something about not wanting to babysit any more than he already does. How it’s ultimately more paperwork he doesn’t want to have to deal with.

He tried once more, going to Ghost’s office one evening. Almost turning tail once he realized how ridiculous it was to be this insistent on figuring out if his Lieutenant had some boyish crush on the sweet nurse he always seemed to be lingering around. But ultimately decided that it was good practice to know more about his team personally. Better bonding meant better interaction on the field, right?

He asked Ghost to redo some paperwork. Add a ‘next of kin’ to his file in the event that something happened and they needed to alert someone. Ghost looked a little suspicious, shrugging off the request.

“Left it off for a reason, Captain.”

He said gruffly, waving a hand. Barely looking up from his desk.

Price pursed his lips, shifting his weight slightly.

“You sure, Simon? Haven’t got anyone that’d be interested to know what happened to you?”

Ghost rubbed the bridge of his nose, like the conversation was more trouble than it was worth, before shrugging once more. Finally looking up from his desk and leaning back slightly in his chair.

“You planning on shipping me off somewhere and not picking me back up?”

A small chuckle from Price. A shake of his head.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Cheers, then. Leave it off.”

This quelled Price’s curiosity for a while, unable to dream up any other reason to try and force Ghost to indulge him. It no doubt hurt his ego a bit, thinking about how his Lieutenant and one of his closest friends was so dead set on keeping his personal life so closely guarded. He’d push the feelings aside, chalk it up to being jaded by his work. Over-involved in the lives of Soap and Gaz. It was probably good for Simon to have something sacred.

Soap wasn’t as easily deterred once he caught on. Not as immediately perceptive as the others, but he knew Ghost well enough to know his tells.

It was after a long mission. Months long. Grueling, shitty, exhausting work. They got back in the early evening, mercifully spared from a debrief until the following day. Soap somehow ended up dragging Ghost to a dive bar a few blocks from base. Trying to sound persuasive when he mentioned that it was a Friday night and they deserved a few drinks and some female attention after all this time going without.

And they did get attention. Two good looking military men sitting at the bar were bound to. Soap knew that Ghost wasn’t one to play the field, but this was a bit frigid even for him. Ignoring girls who came up and tried to strike conversation. Rolling his eyes, or huffing a sigh like it was a chore to even dismiss them, drumming his fingers on the wall of his glass like he’s bored. It was baffling.

What was even more baffling was the way that Ghost’s knee bounced slightly against the stool. An infinitesimally small movement, but the way it caught Johnny’s eye made it seem like Ghost was all but jumping up and down. He looked almost anxious. Itching to get up and leave.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Ghost’s head jerked toward Johnny, cold eyes narrowing in a way that would have been terrifying years ago- before he’d gotten used to it.

“Come again?”

“Got somewhere to be, have you?”

He sounds almost indignant. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Ghost is stand-offish by nature, but this is a caliber he hasn’t yet encountered. Almost enough to be offensive. To make him question the quality of his company.

“Maybe I do. What’s it to you?”

Ghost grumbled, killing the contents of his glass with a final mouthful. Setting it back on the counter and moving to drum his fingers on the bar.

“Been out of the country for months and you expect me to believe you’ve got plans tonight?”

This earned a sigh, low enough to pass as a growl.

“You keeping my social calendar now, then?”

He stood, digging through his wallet for a moment before slapping some cash down on the table next to his empty glass. Not giving Johnny an opportunity to lodge any further complaints against him. Before he nodded his goodnight and slipped out of the bar. Mumbling something about needing to get back to his flat and check on some things.

Soap couldn’t get his mind around it. Ghost was elusive, sure, but again; something seemed off. He was calm, cool, and collected. Wouldn’t be caught dead manifesting his impatience physically. The fidgeting and twitching in his seat. The first place Soap’s mind went was maybe Ghost was dying? That’d be the only reasonable explanation for his behavior. But even then, it seemed a bit extreme.

The next day after the debrief, which was nearly as brutal as the deployment itself, Soap was still so in his head about Ghost’s behavior he almost didn’t notice the pretty nurse who seemed to be waiting for someone at the end of the hall. In fact, he was so stuck in his own mind, he only caught a fleeting glimpse of Ghost’s back rounding the corner with the nurse at his side. Hushed conversation disappearing with them. A softer, much more pleasant voice than Simon’s.

He debated whether or not to follow them, maybe answer the questions that’d been plaguing his mind. Ultimately, he decided in favor of it. Padding down the hall behind the duo who seemed to be headed back to Simon’s office. They weren’t walking closely enough to touch, but Soap immediately picked up on the tension between them. Like the distance was serving some sort of purpose.

Soap lingered in the hallway for a few minutes after the two disappeared into Ghost’s office, trying to sort the pieces of the puzzle he’d barely began collecting. He ultimately decided to go the route he was most comfortable with. Not one for sneaking about, he simply strode up to the office door and swung it open.

You were sat at one of the chairs in front of Simon’s desk, him standing with his arms folded over his chest next to you. Not compromising enough for Johnny’s taste, but he still put on a wide grin and nodded to you.

“Forget how to knock?”

Ghost’s voice was calm enough, but his eyes were shooting daggers straight through Johnny. You looked stiff as a board, chewing the inside of your lip through the tight smile you were giving him.

“Sorry, L.T. Needed to know if you’re still on for trainings this afternoon.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to Ghost, communicating something that he couldn’t quite decipher wordlessly before you began studying your nails in your lap.

Ghost cleared his throat, rolling his tongue in his cheek. Growling something obscene under his breath. The agitation rolling off of him in waves.

“No. Got another assignment.”

And with that, Soap was all but thrown from the office. Querying about this ‘new assignment’ the whole way. Simon crowding him to the door until he finally snapped it shut on his nose.

He heard later that day Ghost was seen in medbay with a toolkit swearing at an X-Ray machine that had been giving you trouble for a month. After that, Soap was on the two of you like a fly on shit. Never missing an opportunity to bring you up to Ghost or vise versa. Mock-innocently saying something to Ghost in passing at dinner about you. Asking if he fancied you. When he said no, Johnny shrugged and nodded. Saying he was glad because he had plans to ask you out the next time he was injured.

That comment landed Soap in the bay sooner than expected. Escorting him to a different nurse’s exam area and standing guard the entire time his black eye was being iced. Berating him for not being able to block a few punches when they had sparred after dinner.

And Gaz, sweet boy that he is, was always more emotionally in-tune. Observant about the little things. Able to pick up on queues Soap and Price may have missed over the years. He was keen as he was quiet, keeping all his little discoveries to himself. Over the years, he’d created a small arsenal of moments he wasn’t sure were significant enough to bring up. Things he could have talked himself into imagining if he thought about them hard enough. Not wanting to jump to conclusions about anything.

But he noticed the incredibly subtle tan line on Ghost’s left hand. Noticed the way he tapped his foot impatiently when the debrief after a long deployment ran long. Noticed the way you always seemed to be around the yard when they touched down after a mission. The way your shoulders dropped when you saw all four of them had returned home. Like you had just been relieved the duty of holding up the sky.

He didn’t immediately connect the dots. Initially thinking that you’d just taken a special liking to the task force. They were some of your most frequent visitors, after all. Price had all but claimed you as their own. Specially requesting that you were the only one to patch their wounds, claiming the other nurses couldn’t hold a flame to your skill.

He didn’t mind. Came to enjoy the little chats the two of you had when the curtains around the cot were drawn. The little kikis you had where you chatted about anything and everything. Complaining about your jobs, irritating patients, botched missions, the morsels of gossip from around base.

One day, after a particularly nasty skirmish on a mission, all four of the men had gnarly wounds. You looked a bit more tired than usual. A bit more on-edge. Your answers were a bit more flat than they usually were. So the first part of the assessment was left mostly silent spare for a few soft “thank you’s” on his part.

It was only when you were bandaging a wound on his thigh did he notice the shape of a ring on your left hand under your glove. A thin band that wrapped neatly around your finger.

“Didn’t know you were married, doc.”

It was a passing comment, more just to spare him the agony of trying to hide his soft groans of pain in the thick silence.

You hummed your acknowledgment, focused more on working sutures through his skin neatly than anything else.

“Lucky bloke. Hope he’s good to you.”

It wasn’t flirty or predatory, like so many of the soldiers could be. A genuine thought. He’d always thought you were sweet. Easy to chat with, always offering him a smile and a chirped greeting when the two of you passed in the hall. Thought you deserved someone to share in your kindness.

You smiled, brow still furrowed slightly in your focus while tying off the stitches.

“He does alright.”

You chuckled softly, straightening on your stool and rolling back just slightly so you could meet his eye.

“All these years and you never mentioned. I’m hurt.”

He words came with a practiced ease, slipping back into your usual playful chatter without missing a beat. Flashing a coy grin as he carefully flexed and relaxed his leg. Getting a feel for the newly patched wound.

You rolled the gloves off your hands and tossed them into the bin. Standing from your stool to scribble a few notes on his chart.

“Not something that ever came up.”

“Now it has. He have a name? How long you been together?”

You chuckled once more, looking over your shoulder at him with an arched brow. A little skeptical of his curiosity.

“A good while.”

He noticed the way you evaded his former question, like you’d done it before. It only fueled his curiosity.

“You worried I’ll know him? Or are you embarrassed? Not much of a looker?”

This earned an amused snort from you, turning away from the chart you’d been working on.

“Nothing wrong with wanting to keep my personal life personal, is there?”

You winked at him, pushing open the curtain that divided the small exam area from the rest of the bay.

He made a small sound of protest, making no move to stand from the cot just yet.

“Alright, forget it. Didn’t even want to know anyway.”

He sounded like a child being denied a sweet. Even playing up the act with a small pout on his mouth.

You tutted softly, conjuring up the best mock-sympathetic look you could before motioning for him to stand.

“We’ll talk later. Captain’ll have my hide if I keep you away a moment longer than is necessary.”

Another sound of protest, followed by a throaty groan as he finally pushed up off the bed. Unsure if he was being dramatic or if the aftermath of the mission had truly gotten to him that bad. Always a flare for the dramatics, him.

He muttered his thanks, cupping your shoulder in his hand as he trudged out. Making you promise to have a proper chat with him later.

He lingered in the bay, allowing himself a few moments peace before getting back to work. Just as he finally turned to leave, he saw Ghost moving stiffly- like he was trying to downplay a limp- toward your little exam area. Though for some reason, the scene looked a bit strange to him. He couldn’t help but peek in.

He caught the way you watched him lumber over with big, worried eyes. The way your nails dug into your palms until he was finally within arms reach. The way you quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention before your hands flew to his neck, fingers slipping expertly under the hem of his mask and yanking it up over his nose. Not rough or angry, but with the kind of urgency that suggested you may die if you didn’t see a sliver of his skin. Make absolutely certain he was truly there with you.

The most jarring part- Ghost actually allowing you to touch the mask. Allowing your little hands to breach his personal space. Hands that would have easily been dwarfed by his own, swallowed up and twisted or shoved away like he had seen happen so many times in sparring matches with prospect soldiers. But Ghost just let it happen.

It was a flurry of movement, so fast that Gaz was certain he could have blinked and missed it. Frozen watching the two of you from just behind another exam area. Feeling like he was intruding without even meaning to.

And then he saw the way Ghost’s big arms snaked around your waist, drawing you flush to his front. You leaning up onto your toes to bring your face closer to the Lieutenant’s. A fervid kiss. You flinging your arms around his neck. The way your shoulders shook. A small, choked sob that Gaz was all but certain he imagined. Drowned out for everyone else by the sounds of the bay.

He was almost shocked that the world continued to move after that. Shocked that something that seemed so monumental could happen tucked away into your barely private exam area. Shocked that your reunion hadn’t halted time and space for everyone else like it had for the two of you.

He felt dirty. Like he should go up and apologize for lingering and seeing what he saw. But he stayed rooted to the spot, finding it impossible to move.

Truly the most damning part was when he caught the quickest glimpse of your badge just before the curtain was tugged shut. The badge you kept carefully pinned to your uniform face-down for a reason he couldn’t fathom until now. Twisted free for just a moment and finally connecting the snippets of information he’d collected over the years.

(Y/N Riley)

[cauldron-of-oddities]

If this is Jinx's official (travel) map, I love it.

Most important:

Zaun (and Piltover) - Chez Jinx - house or home of Jinx, surounded by the sun and clouds and, most importantly, hearts 💖 - She still thinks of it as home, so I have good hope she'll go back. (And back to Ekko and the firelights and connect to her sister again)

And the travel lines go to and from Zaun several times, so maybe a drop-in isn't that rare. A cycle of travel, drop in for a kiss (let me dream) from Ekko, and then cause some mayhem for Vi and Cait to deal with and then travel again.

As for the rest? Love and have to laugh at her opinions, and if she's been to these places, it says a lot about her experiences.

Noxus - des mechants - bad guys - just no - there's an image of a square headed vampire (at least he has fangs) and angry scribbles - this was clearly not a good time.

Freljord- mega trop - mega too much - probably froze her butt off (her sense of fashion is no good here), trolls and who knows what else (I'm certain someone with more lol knowledge can add) She might have had fun making a snowman or two.

Demacia - bling bling and snobs - no translation required, what it says on the tin. There's a diamond there too, why do I have the feeling she's wanted for theft? I am guessing she had a blast causing chaos and left when she deemed them all party poopers with their heads stuck up in their pompous asses. (and a google search for prout prout informs me they're farts)

Targon - trop loin??? - too far??? I can't guess here. Has it been deemed too far or has it gone to far?

Shumira - hmmm, ok. - thoughtful, there's a cactus and a spiky critter. An interesting experience? Think she might have found some lore on Janna?

Ixtal - jungle magique - magical jungle - stars and a potion bottle - feels like she enjoyed it for what it was, probably got her curious mind buzzing, if how she was with hextech is anything to go by.

Shadow Isles - Habitants Maudits - Cursed inhabitants - ghosts and gravestones and all that creepy stuff - doesn't feel like she liked it there more like - yuck creepy, interesting but not for me. (and maybe looking 'death' and a curse like that in the eye is a deeply unsettling thing)

Ionia - trop calme - too calm - there's a sleeping head there, sheep, and a game of x&o. My guess is that she was bored, good for a nap, but too much looking for balance. Reading the info about Ionia, though, there should be quite the under current of tension - or is this prehaps hinting that Noxus has not invaded yet?

Bilgewater - Pirates - with a big giant heart. Yeah, I think she had a blast here. It's also where the drawn ship is headed. Free to indulge in more of her chaotic behaviours, picking uo bounties, pestering/ running from bounty hunters, hanging out at the bar. Jup, good time. I have been informed that she'd probably get along with several of the inhabitants and possibly make friends.

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

Part 2

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Do you like my stuff? You can support me here!

[hmslusitania]

Putting both hands over my mouth, I can only hope nothing's gonna come out

“How unethical would it be to let him keep thinking we’re dating just to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with him?” The raised-eyebrow look Jon shoots Tim across the table is 100% Lois Lane. “On a scale from ‘this is completely hinged behaviour and not weird at all’ to ���cloning him unsuccessfully ninety-nine times’?” Tim nods. “I don’t know,” Jon says. He thinks about it. “Probably like a four.” “So I probably shouldn’t do that,” Tim says. “Yeah, okay.” He reaches for his phone to start trying to undo the rumour Duke has inadvertently started, but Jon clears his throat. “On the other hand,” he says with an uncertain smile. “That would probably piss Damian off enough that he’d actually talk to me.”

OR

Tim and Jon pretend to date, mostly by accident, and no one is well about it. Because being in your early 20s is all about making the worst decisions of your life.

[now Complete]

[phefics]

unconventional

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: a tickle fight with billy and stu takes a turn when the boys realize how much they like hearing the reader beg. warnings: dubious consent, degrading names (slut), tickling word count: 1.6k

It’s an unconventional arrangement, dating two boys at once. You certainly hadn’t befriended Billy Loomis and Stu Macher with the intention of falling for either of them, let alone both.

But, shit happens, especially when your two best friends are attractive and fucking inseparable. Dating one of them would end up as a package deal, anyway. 

Kids at school couldn’t quite figure you out. One day, you’d be seen getting carried bridal-style by Stu, the next, you’d be holding hands with Billy. Some people thought you were a cheater, some thought you were a beard to hide a gay love affair.

None of you gave a shit what anyone thought.

Your parents weren’t home, and you had invited the boys over for a movie night. Stu had arrived first, because he lived closer, and although Billy got there only a few minutes later, he walked in on an interesting scene.

You had left the front door unlocked, and as he walked inside, he heard shrieking coming from the living room. He panicked for a moment, thinking Stu had broken the ‘Don’t Kill Y/N’ rule, but as he tiptoed into the room, all he found was Stu straddling your thighs, tickling you.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

You and Stu both jumped at his voice, so caught up in the moment that you had forgotten he was on his way.

“Billy, help!” you cried, still giggling like mad as Stu’s fingers slipped beneath your sweater, scribbling over the skin of your stomach.

“Help? Sure, I’ll help,” Billy said, giving Stu a smirk as he approached, kneeling down on the floor beside you.

He easily grabbed your flailing wrists and pulled your arms up, pinning them over your head.

“Can’t smack me anymore, hm?” Stu teased. “Thanks, Billy, I was startin’ to fear for my life there.”

“No problem. We couldn’t let that pretty face get bruised, could we?”

While you agreed that Stu had a pretty face, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in it as his fingers creeped higher, tickling your underarms with a newfound vigor, now that you were helpless to stop him.

Your laugh grew in volume, in intensity. “You fuckers,” you gasped out, kicking your legs wildly. “I’m gonna kill you both, cut it out!”

Billy let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over your ear. Stu, meanwhile, giggled along with you, clearly pleased with himself for starting this whole thing.

“You want us to stop?” Billy asked. “Cause it seems like you’re having fun…”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smiling like crazy,” Stu added. “Why would we stop makin’ you smile, baby?”

"Besides, we're certainly having fun."

You whined as his fingers slowed to a torturous, feather-light touch, just ghosting against your skin. “You guys suck,” you said, breathless.

Billy hummed. “Really? We suck? That’s not very nice, Y/N. Stu, I think we need to teach her some manners.”

“I agree.”

And with that, Stu’s hands began tickling you again, dancing over your entire torso, never lingering in one spot for too long. Billy adjusted his grip on your wrists so that he was only holding them with one hand, using the other to flutter over the side of your neck, making you scrunch up your shoulders uselessly.

This was awful. It was torture. But…There was something exciting about it, too. Being held down like this, helpless and pliant beneath their touches as they exploited your weak spots…Stu’s hands brushed against your chest as he went, and you weren’t wearing a bra, and you felt your nipples grow hard at the quick, barely-there contact.

“You gonna apologize to us?” Billy asked.

You shook your head. You had nothing to apologize for. They did suck, you were just telling the truth.

“Always so fuckin’ stubborn,” he sighed, before using his free hand to tickle your armpit, making you squeal.

“Maybe she’s not giving up because she likes it,” Stu said. “She’s such a slut, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns her on.”

If the tickling itself wasn’t hot, those words certainly were. You felt your pussy throb when you were called that, felt a thrill up your spine.

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “How about we make a new deal, Y/N? Stu’s gonna pull your pants down, and if you aren't wet right now, we’ll stop. But if you are, well…Maybe we’ll take the rest of your clothes off and keep going.”

The fingers stopped, finally giving you a chance to fully catch your breath. Your skin buzzed with the phantom sensation, your head spun from their teasing words. But most of all, you knew for a fact that you were wet, and your heart pounded in your chest at the realization.

Stu gave you a mischievous grin before getting off your legs and grabbing the waist of your sweatpants, yanking them down to your knees with no preamble, and cupping his fingers over your mound, pressing against your folds through your panties, feeling the obvious dampness that only made his grin grow larger, more devilish.

“You were right,” he said. “Little slut’s getting off on this.”

You opened your mouth and shut it again. What were you supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Attempt to elaborate that it wasn’t really the tickling, it was everything combined? Would that really save your dignity?

Billy laughed. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You let out a soft whimper as Stu’s fingers rubbed against your pussy, trying to buck your hips to gather more friction.

“So needy,” Stu muttered, almost to himself.

Billy released your wrists and made quick work of pulling your hoodie over your head, the cold air making goosebumps rise on your bare skin. Your nipples hardened even more, and you grew even more aroused as you were stripped.

Stu pulled your pants down the rest of the way, and your underwear, too, leaving you naked on the carpet and blushing like mad.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

You shook your head, squirming wildly as they caged you in between their bodies. “Please, I—”

They didn’t let you finish. If you really wanted them to stop, you knew what to say, and you hadn’t, so they had no reason for showing mercy.

Stu began squeezing up and down your thighs, occasionally scratching behind your knees as well, while Billy dug into your ribs.

The combined sensations made you burst into laughter, slightly hoarse with how loud you’d been the entire time. You thrashed, but they easily dodged your flying limbs and kept tickling.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Billy cooed.

“Fucking adorable,” Stu agreed.

You wailed as Stu ran his fingers over the sole of your foot, toes curling in an attempt to block the feeling, but it did nothing to provide any relief.

“Please,” you managed to say. “I can’t take it anymore, stop it!”

To your surprise, they did. Your begging usually only turned them on more, and you doubted they were truly going to stop.

Stu positioned himself between your thighs, pushing them apart so he could bring his face to your pussy, looking up at you with those sweet blue eyes.

Billy’s hands came to grab your breasts, and you moaned softly as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Stu licked at your entrance teasingly before beginning to eat you out, holding your hips and easily finding your clit with his tongue.

Your head lolled back into Billy’s lap, legs spreading even wider to give Stu better access to your aching clit.

All the rough-housing, the name-calling, the teasing had gotten you so worked up, and they were finally going to give you some relief.

Or, so you thought.

Slowly, Billy’s touch became light and ticklish again, blunt fingernails tracing along the curve of your tits, up to your collarbones, down to your sides. You squirmed and laughed softly, trying to ignore it and focus on the pleasure Stu’s tongue was bringing you, but that bastard had also begun to wiggle his fingers against your hips, all while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit, causing a mixture of moans and giggles to spill from your lips.

“So pretty,” Billy murmured. “So sensitive, too. But you take it like the good girl you are, hm? You’ll take whatever we dish out, won’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you reply, your speech slightly slurred.

“You gonna cum for us like this? Fuckin’ helpless, fuckin’ adorable…”

You whined as Stu’s mouth brought you closer to climax, and Billy’s words were certainly helping. “Yes,” you said again. “Please, make me cum…”

You felt Stu chuckle against you, the heat of his breath making you twitch.

Their fingers were still tickling, in that maddening sort of itch that made you want to crawl out of your skin more than it made you want to laugh. It kept your entire nervous system alert, buzzing like electricity as you drew closer and closer to orgasm.

“That’s our girl,” Billy said. “Begging like a good slut. You can cum baby, cum for us.”

His words were all you needed to be pushed off the edge, legs shaking as you came with a cry of pleasure.

Stu popped up from between your thighs, all wild-eyed and adorable, like he was so proud to have given you that orgasm. His lips were shining with your wetness, and Billy leaned over you to kiss it off for him.

As your boyfriends kissed, you flopped back against the carpet, breathless and spent. Your skin still tingled and you felt high off of adrenaline.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, huh?” Stu said, gesturing at the sticky mess on your thighs.

You blushed. “My shower is not big enough for the three of us,” you said.

“But we could run you a bath,” Billy suggested. “And you could watch us have a little fun…You got us so fuckin’ hard.”

You could see both of their cocks straining in their pants, and grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

An unconventional relationship, an unconventional sex life…You couldn’t care less if it was strange. It was fucking perfect.

[asukiess]

i just wanna say thank you for filling the eminath tag. you're a blessing 😭😭😭

do you have any eminath or ml fic recs?

!!!!!!! thank you, that means so much 🩵 glad you and others have enjoyed!! it’s been really nice to see more traction in the tag.

always open to hearing more from people about eminath, or the women separately, too. 🫶💞 love talking about them 🥰

as for fic recs, let’s start with the Emilie ones…

thirteen by okayanna (anna-scribbles)

truly the quintessential thesis on the relationship between Emilie and Adrien and the ramifications of his childhood, as well as a truly thought provoking fleshing out of the ghost of a presence we know.

would that I could, I’d bookbind this fic, annotate it, and have it on my shelf. literally when am I not talking about thirteen.

Orbital Departure, Lose it in the Morning, Watership Down, all by bittersweetResilience

Three fics that play with unique concepts such as Adrien having twin telepathy and a soul bond with Félix, a trait shared once with Amélie and Emilie, and the family dynamics between these pairs of twins.

Could never say enough about the attention and detail Sunny brought to these characters at the time. I think about Orbital Departure all the time.

(just check out Sunny’s Emilie tag, is what I’m saying.)

What Real Human Beings Do by nemali

Amélie is the main character here, but boy 👏 do 👏 we 👏 see 👏 the beautiful scars Emilie has left on her sister. and how better to understand a character than their twin?

and for the eminath section…

in the mouth of the sun by telmes (archekoeln)

I remember reading this and being in awe. it was like reaching into the past (2020!) and finding someone who saw the same beauty in the ship and feeling so understood. love love LOVE their writing style (just READ that summary!! UGH!!!), and I need to do a dive into their other nathalie-centric fics.

On the same note, I just found their fic “you push me down” in my bookmarks too and literally teared up remembering it.

she doesn't need me, not like I need her by azalera

i love a good, sentimental story. it may seem simple, but there’s something about it that I just think about often.

I’ve been meaning to read their fic, “hello, emilie” as well!

bread and oranges by peachcitt

need to do a proper reread of this because I feel like I read it in a trance. 🫶 getting emotional all over again. AUGH

As for me—I have a Nathalie character analysis fic that I’m proud of, and quite like the eminath poetry I did. Maybe you’ll like “for the hope of it all”, too 🥰

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

By the time she touched down in Pensacola, all Delilah wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the month. This past week had been exhausting, both emotionally and physically, and as she climbed into the Uber she ordered, she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t get worse when she arrived home and had to lay eyes on Andre for the first time in a week.

Judging from the layers of guilt that had been padding in her belly since she boarded the plane, ‘worse’ seemed more inevitable than anything.

Walking into the trailer park home she didn’t realize she would miss so much, a voicemail appeared in her notifications. Seeing it was from Josh, she quickly shook her head and rid herself of any of the numerous X-rated visuals her brain could resurrect. Putting him on speaker, she dragged herself and her suitcase toward her bedroom, his low teasing voice bringing a smile to her face even though the memory of him swirled in her gut like a ship in the middle of a storm.

"Hey, baby. About to get on the plane back to ATL. I had the best time with you this week. Uhh…miss you already, girl. Miss everything bout’chu, and I mean everything…Anyway, call me. Yeet! Mwah."

Dude actually blew a kiss. So cute. 

Pushing open the door to her bedroom, her heart leapt into her throat, her eyes wide at the tableau before her. The bed she shared with Andre was perfectly made, something she wasn't sure it ever had been since they moved into the house together. The expensive white satin sheets they’d unwisely splurged on one random day years ago and never used since then, draped the bed. On her side of the bed, a single red rose lay on her pillow along with a piece of notebook paper, folded with her name on it.

With numb legs, Delilah managed to lower herself to the mattress and took the note slowly from its place. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper, which she realized he’d spritzed with his favorite cologne. To top it all off, one scan of his familiar scribble caused the tears to instantly fill her eyes.

My Dee-Dee girl,

You've been gone for six whole days and I think I went a little insane. I think this was the longest time we’ve ever been apart and it sucks ass. All week Khalid kept telling me that you’re all I talk about since you been gone and I didn't even realize it. I've missed you being home with me. I wondered if the tryout was everything you dreamed of and I really hope you had fun. I was gonna call you, but I didn't wanna mess up your flow. 

I know you’re home already and when I come back, we're gonna have a candid discussion about you probably getting called back by WWE. Something tells me you did and I can’t wait to hear all about it.

I love you.

Dre.

P.S. Did you see the video I sent you?

Reaching for her phone, she searched around for said video and her heart sank to discover he’d sent an email to her three nights ago. Her chest tightened further as she remembered exactly where she was – whom she was with – at that exact time. She tapped the video open and found Andre standing in front of the mirror in their bathroom. Then, he opened his mouth and began singing the first couple of lines from what she recognized as Justin Bieber’s ‘Ghost’, one of his favorite modern songs. 

As her fiancé’s melodic voice sounded around their bedroom, her arms dropped to her thighs helplessly with his note still in her hands. Her eyes looked to the ceiling and saw nothing thanks to the tears blurring her vision and spilling down her cheeks. This video, this letter, didn’t sound like the same old Andre. This was a repentant Andre. An Andre she didn’t expect at all. She had come home with metaphorical boxing gloves on, waiting to confront the guy who still couldn't understand why the woman he was marrying was pursuing such a wild, unattainable dream. She had come home ready to move on from him. She had almost convinced herself that it was his fault she had ended up in bed, multiple times, with another man.

That if I can't be close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

Sobs wracked Delilah’s body as she curled into the fetal position on the bed, her watery eyes resting on the video playing of Andre’s handsome face, his eyes closed as he sang his heart out to her. 

She fucked up. She fucked up so bad.

And the guilt was going to eat her alive.

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

Five hours after some much-needed sleep, Delilah stood at the kitchen counter picking at the bowl of chicken salad she had made for herself. She had been disappointed to wake up and realize that the unscrupulous decisions that she made in Orlando were not one bad dream. She had gone to the bathroom to freshen up and winced as she was instantly transported back to said bad decisions, her mind replaying the visual of herself bent over the sink, Josh pumping away behind her. Same reason she was standing by the counter and not sitting down, as the image of her back arched against the countertop with his face buried between her thighs materialized the second she laid eyes on the table. Ditto with the majority of the furniture around her house and the numerous positions she’d been twisted into on each one. Long story short, she would never look at any of them the same way again.

The front door swung open, causing Delilah's stomach to lurch once again. She wished she could run away, and that notion did not waver as Andre bumbled inside the house, his trusty backpack on his shoulder and a big relieved smile on his face. "My baby is back!" he exclaimed, slamming the door with his foot as he made his way over to her. When his arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, she fought the urge to throw up on his flannel shirt.

"You're home early," she feigned a smile, crossing her arms defensively as she took refuge behind the counter once again.

If he noticed her strange behavior, Andre didn't let on. "I worked a lot of overtime this week when you were gone," he shrugged, grabbing her fork and stabbing it into her bowl of salad as he lowered himself down to the stool next to her. Even with his mouth full, his lips curled into that goofy little boy smile that always made her heart melt, and not for the first time, Delilah felt the bile rise to her throat.

"So how was it?" he asked her.

The simplest of questions, yet he might as well have asked her about quantum physics. How on earth was she meant to tell him that it was the greatest week of her life without telling him that she had cheated on him? How was she meant to admit that she hadn’t given him much thought because she was with another man? Could she bring herself to break his heart like that?

"It was good." Her answer was flat and curt, her gaze studying the countertop like it was the most fascinating thing in that moment.

Andre just laughed, his face still alight from the triumphant return of his fiancee. "That's it? Just good?" he asked. "So modest. C’mere." He stood and held his hand out. When Delilah took the invitation, he led her away from the kitchen, over to the couch and gathered her into his arms when they sat down. "Tell me. I wanna hear all about it."

So many times she had hoped for this, him finally showing an interest in the life she was pursuing. But instead, this abrupt personality turn of his was rubbing her the wrong way. His happy-little-camper attitude was grating on her nerves, and the guilt bubbling inside her was the reason.

"Why?" she demanded, the question spilling out before she could think it through.

Slightly taken aback by the question, Andre pushed on. "Why? Cuz you're my girl. Cuz I know how much you want this and I'm anxious to hear how it all went down."

Oh, he went down, alright, Delilah thought angrily. She understood that most of the rage she was feeling was directed at herself, but she couldn't help but what the hell had gotten into this man sitting before her. It was as if he knew he was on the verge of losing her, and now he was pulling out all of his famed charm to reel her back in. "Oh really? You care now? What changed?" she asked coldly, pushing out of his arms and crossing hers defensively over her chest.

The wounded look in his eyes made her heart sink. "Baby, I've been an asshole about this. I admit it," he said softly, taking her hand once more. "But I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"Oh riiiiight, I see. You didn’t have your fuck buddy for one week and now you’re all up in your feelings!" Delilah argued. She knew that she sounded bitter and wounded, but she couldn't help it. The emotions of the past week were rushing over her at such a dizzying pace and she wasn't coping well at all, struggling to find her footing on this rollercoaster that her life had suddenly become.

Andre, meanwhile, had had enough of Delilah’s antagonism. "Dee, what the fuck is going on?" he struggled not to raise his voice, scooting back on the couch a few inches. "I thought you wanted me to be more supportive!"

Delilah jumped to her feet. "I want you to be supportive because you believe in me, Andre! Because you're proud of me. Not because you got lonely!" Sometimes she wondered if he understood her at all, if he had heard anything she had said over the last several months.

But Andre was tired of this already. He had just admitted to being wrong and yet she was still berating him. "I can't win with you," he threw his arms out, standing to regain some sense of equilibrium. "What the fuck happened out there?"

"Nothing!" she answered, a bit too quickly.

“Well something happened!” Flinging his arm to the side, Andre was in fight mode. "Just days ago, you were talking about how I didn’t care about you, and now that I’m putting in some effort, you want me to just back off and drop the whole thing? What kinda bipolar bullshit is that?" They had been here too many times, all over this house, outside this house, arguing about anything and everything, specifically on one increasingly annoying subject.

"I want you to actually mean it!" Delilah lashed out, no longer able to contain her emotions. The tears threatened to fall again as she pleaded with him, arms extended helplessly. "I want you to come to one of my matches. Dre. Just one. I want you to see what I do, see why it's so fucking important to me!"

"How many times have I told you, wrestling ain’t my thing," he dismissed. "You don't like all the things I like, but you don't see me cryin’ and beggin’ you to like ‘em."

Crying and begging. He couldn’t even see that his nonchalance had forced her to confide in someone else, and she’d ended up doing much more than that with him. Maybe if he knew, maybe if she told him what his apathy had done to their relationship, his mind would finally, finally change. But she refused to feel guilty for following her dreams. She refused to settle. "I don't need you to be a fan of wrestling!" she argued, "I don’t give a flyin' fuck if you don’t know any of the moves or any of the wrestlers’ names!"

"Then what is this abou-" Andre interrupted.

"For fuck’s sake, Andre! I want you to be a fan of me!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she kicked their wooden coffee table across the tiny room, “I want you to know my name! I need you to support me, to care about my wrestling, dammit!”

An awkward silence fell over the room, punctuated by the heart-wrenching sounds of her sobs as the love of his life’s words sank into his soul. For nearly a year, he had watched her morph into someone he no longer recognized, and not liking what he saw, he distanced himself, hoping it would be out of her system in due time. But now it was clear that this wasn’t going away, and it was breaking both their hearts as what they had – what he thought they had – was starting to collapse before his very eyes. 

"You wrote me some letter and sang a song. Big deal!" she continued through her tears. "You're doing everything but taking an actual interest in watching me find myself, because that’s exactly what I’m doing, Andre, and you can't handle it." She shrugged, even more emotionally exhausted than she was before she returned home. "You laugh, and you joke, and you tease me about it. You laugh at me with your friends. You laugh with my mother." Letting out a sardonic laugh, she shook her head, relaxed her shoulders and met his eyes. If she was going to be honest, she was going to have to be completely honest. 

"You have never believed, not one time, that I could do this. You wanted me to fail just so your life wouldn't have to change. But I didn’t fail! They liked me out there! They want us to move to Orlando in three months so I can start training at the Performance Center. That’s another step closer to NXT, and from there, I could make it to the main roster. I went out there and I left it all in the ring and for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere and they agreed! The biggest wrestling company in the world wants me, Andre! It ain’t no dream no more and I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you."

Again, silence. Sniffling, she wiped her tears with her forearm and turned, walking toward the bedroom. She was done. And it had nothing to do with Josh, or with wrestling. She was just over it, and she was desperate to let off some steam because if she stayed this way she would most likely combust.

"Where are you going?" Andre asked, watching her change into her sneakers, which he noticed were brand new. Her suitcase was open and filled with more items than it had when she left. Things that, in real time, neither of them could quite afford. She wasn't lying. WWE were pulling out all the stops to bring her into their ranks.

Grabbing the keys to her motorcycle, Delilah responded, "To Tank’s gym. Need to work out." She was still a little tired, but she’d much rather be outside than stuck in this hellhole she was about to call her matrimonial home. She longed to talk to a certain someone but he was in faraway Atlanta and she really couldn’t keep running to him with her problems. Not anymore anyway. Not when he had become one of those problems.

Andre looked dumbfounded that she was leaving this unfinished. "We ain’t done talking, Delilah! You can’t just walk out on me!" 

With a bitter chuckle, she picked up her gym bag. "Damn right I can," she informed him, walking past him towards the bedroom exit. Just as she swung open the door, he grabbed her, his strong arm wrapped around her slender waist. Blushing as she glared hard at him, he cleared his throat. 

"A’ight. Gimme ten minutes to change. I'm coming with you," he said quietly, blushing harder when she raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I'm serious, baby. Let's take the truck. I wanna see you, see what you're all about."

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

THOUGHTS? Is Andre finally coming around?

🏷️: @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @shamaness11 @shantinextdoor @whatdoeseverybodywant

[ninadove]

AO3 reading year in review 📚

Tagged by @teafig! Here’s a fraction of the fics I enjoyed this year! 💖

JANUARY: Of Wishes and Feathers by @trishacollins {Miraculous 🦚}

Little Felix spends an afternoon being entertained by his aunt.

Trisha wrote this for me because I am the most spoiled girl in the world! 💜 We need more Felix and Emilie in the world urgently. Someone make it your 2025 resolution. I demand it

FEBRUARY: my wings and my eyes by @bittersweetresilience {Honkai: Star Rail 🚂}

Jing Yuan is tired, but he has been tired for a long time now.

Sunny gets February for no reason other than it is Official Shipping Month and its prose single-handedly got me into Renjing. This fic in particular is so loving and tender… 🥺 There is nothing Sunny cannot write and these two idiots have helped prove it time and time again!

MARCH: I miss you more than anything by @sillyangstfic {Miraculous 🦚}

Felix reaches out to Adrien a few months after his mother's death to see if he would like to come visit. Adrien thinks that this is a great idea! Gabriel, not so much.

This was not yet published in March but WHO CARES THE VIBES FIT. Felix cares so much and the Adrien/Dandelion angst is, as the youth say, fire 🔥

APRIL: thirteen by @anna-scribbles {Miraculous 🦚}

The house was never something that belonged to him, and it still isn’t, no matter how many documents boast his name in bold print. Adrien has always belonged to it, though, like a dog tethered to a chain, like a ghost to its unfinished business.

//

The end of the world began on the day Adrien Agreste turned thirteen years old.

What can I say about thirteen that hasn’t already been said? I picked it for April because reasons, but it’s been a highlight of my entire winter and spring. The Adrien Fic Ever 🌼

MAY: love thorns all over this rose by @thevioletthread {Miraculous 🦚}

there's a boy knocking on her window. she lets him in.

[Doodles a tiny heart on your window]

[Kisses you in front of the sunrise]

[Gets down on one knee]

Alexandria, will you raise a hamster with me? 💜🦚❤️🐉

JUNE: Of Broken Bones and Promises by @bright-thehawksflight {Cyrano de Bergerac 🪶}

Christian had a leg amputated, and the two loves of his life manage to simultaneously save his life, plan for the tough times to come, and pine all over the Arras battlefield.

Lisa is the reference when it comes to Cyrano and Greek mythology fanfics. I think about the amputation-hug scene three times per week 🥺

JULY: Candle In The Wind by @phieillydinyia {Miraculous 🦚}

Someone was screaming. A horrific, guttural sound that infected the entire night with sorrow. He wondered if it was the ghosts of the people he'd just killed. He wondered if they'd come back to haunt him, to follow his every waking move, to never let him forget the way he'd demolished them into dust.c

The sound pounded through his head, threatening to burst open his eardrums, determined to push him to a breaking point. Collapsing to his knees, Chat Noir had to pause to draw in a deep breath.

It was only then that he realized the person screaming was him.

The highlight of my summer! A role reversal AU of the movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. (The answer is very cool. Mwah 💖)

AUGUST: If I hold you too close by @bbutterflies {Miraculous 🦚}

Paris didn’t come to a screeching halt for akumas anymore. They were so commonplace, so frequent, no one stopped their lives unless they were in danger. They trusted the heroes to fix everything if something did go wrong, save them if they got hurt. Adrien was still fighting the urge to find Plagg and go running into battle.

Plagg wasn’t here, though.

ADRINO ANGST MGRRRGRRRRR

SEPTEMBER: Luminous strike by @faiirygrahamdevanily {Miraculous 🦚}

Orders controlled the younger twin

Like a bird with a clipped wing

Silver metal out of his hand

The peacock at the monster's command

MY BIRTHDAY GIFT!!!! THAT CAME WITH ITS OWN MOODBOARD!!!! HELL YEAH!!!! 🎂💜🎉

Everyone should check Clara’s works out!!! The Sentikids are great for exploring themes of otherness and rarer forms of fanworks, and she does it extremely well! ❤️💜💚

OCTOBER: the monster who loves you by @purplecatghostposts {Miraculous 🦚}

Mum nods, clapping her hands together. “Your brother is finally feeling better and is coming home today! Isn’t that so exciting?”

Félix pauses mid-bite, processing her words. Mum waits expectantly, as if expecting him to jump for joy, or his equivalent of it.

But… Félix doesn’t have a brother.

(Or Félix’s brother is a monster, but only in the most literal sense. Félix’s father is a monster despite being very, very human. He learns to navigate the world through these two truths.)

SOAP SOAP SOAP SOAP I am eating you. I am eating you forever. You spontaneously appeared in the tags one day and literally haven’t stopped blessing us since but THIS FIC IN PARTICULAR. OH GOSH. OH WOW. THIS ONE IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE. You know how much I love Adrien being cast as the monster (rawr rawr rawr 🦖)

NOVEMBER: Emmy Altava and the Situationship from Hell by @drowsybadger {Professor Layton 🎩}

Or: Clive, Janice and Their Mutual Ex. Or: Emmy Altava and the Great Year that started off really, really, awful. Or: How To Overcome Your Past Mistakes

Basically, 22K words of people fixing their past mistakes and being lovingly awful to each other. Also, Clive is single-handedly responsible for London rent prices actually being affordable for the next half-century in this universe.

Drowsy infected me with the Clivejan QPR bug… My life has never been the same since…

DECEMBER: Me and You, We're Roses of Blue by @adastra-rising {Miraculous 🦚}

For centuries, the blue rose has represented mystery, royalty, and that which is unobtainable.

Why?

Because the blue rose is artificial. Unnatural. So close to being real, but not quite. The unfortunate, disappointing result of humanity daring to challenge the natural order.

And for some reason, Felix Graham De Vanily can't stop thinking about it.

Meanwhile Kagami Tsurugi, despite everything, thinks they are wonderful.

And Adrien Agreste, who prefers his roses red, is just here for a good time.

(A story in which Felix reflects on his childhood, his relationships, and the nature of what's artificial and what's real.)

(Alternatively, a story where the ideal date is destroying a dead man's property in the name of art, and two cousins who are actually brothers' bond over one truly terrible joke.)

Because excellent characterisation and flower imagery are always a gift! 🌹

SPECIAL MENTIONS

Aka works that didn’t quite fit but that I really wanted to feature:

Icarus by @dragongutsixofficial {Dumas Cinematic Universe ⚔️}

The year is 1630. The Cardinal of Richelieu won. Mme de Fargis is banned and has to leave the Court.

She has a few people to say her goodbyes to.

DRAGON STARTED WRITING AGAIN THIS YEAR AND I COULDN’T BE PROUDER. They have a real talent for emulating Dumas’ style while making the story uniquely theirs! 💖

time marches back by @asukiess {Miraculous 🦚}

The Loveybug AU was one of the highlights of 2023-2024, and this fic? This fic. It’s great, man. Definitely won’t break your heart or anything.

Everything in The Félix Zine! I have a particularly soft spot for @mostmagical’s Bridges and @nemaliwrites’ A Graphite Heart, but everyone slayed so incredibly hard! Please also contemplate our amazing artists’ pieces! 💜🦚

@beezonia’s Miraculous Mons AU. Bee, you know it, I’m the target audience for this universe. I love your ficlets, your team line-ups, your designs, everything! 💙🩵🧡

cringe origional works collection by @isdisorigionalenoughforyou

The kind of poetry that will haunt you. Discovered by accident after reading their Aroace Analysis of Jayvik, which you should also check out! 🦋

And my beloved AO3 collections (recs + my own works):

Felix | Adrien | Kagami | Senticousins | Feligami | Clive | Literature and mythology

Tagging… anyone who wants to do this, because I forgot who was and wasn’t tagged by my fellow writer friends. Go wild.

Happy 2025, everyone! May it be kind and filled with excellent stories for us to share! 💚💜❤️

[roseyjustice]

I attempted a 3rd steel soul run and died in the city of tears so heres my s/i as i cope with all my almost 2-3 hrs of lost progress ;;

They’re a bee who may be part of the grimm troupe ! Hes a performer who specializes in theater and poetry ^^