#Mar writes something

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Mr. Perfect, Book and Cover

- a Tarlos Library Meet Cute and a graduation gift for @emsprovisions 🥳 - pairs with this completely amazing art by @whatsintheboxmh

Eeeemmmm!!!! You did it!!! You’re freee!!! I’m so freakishly proud and over the moon for you my friend💗💗 and I’m very excited to hear what the other side is like!! (just please spare me some details until I’m done with exams in February please).

You making it to the other side, making it through every single annoying assignment, ending your days of always feeling a little bit bad for doing something you enjoy because you could be doing homework instead - all that needs to be celebrated to the fullers!!🎊 (Also you need to be celebrated because you are a kind, lovely, sexy, sweet christmas loving button who sneaks around keeping secrets and then sprinkles holiday joy on one lucky person a day after the other for this whole month.)

Without further ado, have some Tarlos Library Meet Cute for you on your last day of classes!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Placing the novel on top of his already tall stack of cook books, Carlos turns slowly, carefully balancing them in his arms, with a plan to head to the counter. Only as he turns he comes face to face with a sight that he is by now, too embarrassingly familiar with.

For a moment he’s too stunned to realize what or rather who the sight implies, too stunned in fact to do anything but stare transfixed on two beautifully rounded globes perfectly accentuated by snug jeans, loose fitted just enough that they don’t reel anything in either.

He’s too busy wondering what it would be like to place his hands right there, thumbs pressing in just above, resting on the top of the plump cheeks, fingers gripping around soft hips; Imagining the feeling under his hands of the pink sweater that’s rucked up as if purposefully making the most magnificent ass Carlos has ever laid his eyes on pop out even more as if that’s even necessary..

He is abruptly pulled out of his daydreaming by a cheerful “Hey Carlos!” coming from somewhere above him. And then several unfortunate events transpire almost at once.

All the blood in his body changes the slow but steady downwards direction it was going in to rush up to his face, his cheeks flushing as he practically tears his gaze from the gorgeous butt, up, up, up, until it lands on the somehow even more devastating sight that is TK’s face beaming down at him.

In a voice sounding like he just travelled 15 years back in time and hit puberty all over again, Carlos yelps out a “TK!” Gathering himself and trying not to think TK probably having just caught him staring at his ass, he clears his throat to make himself sound more like his actual age and then continues to make a fool of himself “I didn’t think you were working today!”

He doesn’t phrase it as a question, rather he almost sounds accusing, and now he’s just gone and revealed that he has memorized TK’s work schedule maybe a little too well. He can feel a small bead of sweat forming on his temple and he feels stuffy in his jacket suddenly.

The worst thing is that while all this has been happening, he’s been desperately and probably very unsubtly trying to restack his books, trying and failing to look casual about it, in an attempt to hide the book he had just placed on top, the hunky, bare chested man in a cardigan and hot-librarian glasses on the cover bearing an obvious and uncanny resemblance to the man currently smiling down at him from the ladder he’s perched on.

The attempts at concealment results in several of the books catapulting dramatically out of his hands, Mr. Perfect, Book and Cover landing on the floor face up and right at TK’s feet.

Within the span of two minutes Carlos has regressed back to his teenage self, his cheeks flushed, voice rising and falling in uncontrollable pitches, and beginning to smell faintly of the type of sweat that comes from your nerves and hormones constantly being in overdrive; he has been uncharacteristically impolite, and on top of it all has managed to reveal not only that he’s memorized TK’s work schedule but also that he likes to read cheesy romance novels about hot librarians - all in front of his crush, who happens to be a librarian.

His crush, who is still smiling down at him, although now also starting to look a little puzzled and slightly concerned as he descends the ladder slowly as if worried that any sudden movements will spook Carlos further. Carlos kind of wants to hit himself on top of his head with a hammer repeatedly.

TK is bending down to pick the books up and, rising, he places them back in Carlos’ arms where the ones that didn’t escape are still stacked. It makes Carlos feel like he’s in some cheesy romantic high school comedy.

Mr. Perfect, Book and Cover is still lying face-up on the floor, and Carlos doesn’t act fast enough to prevent disaster. Before he manages to do anything to stop it, TK is bent down again, picking it up for him while Carlos stands there paralyzed watching it happen in slow motion.

All Carlos can hope for at this point is that TK won’t know that it’s a gay cheesy romance novel and he can pretend he’s just picking it up for his sister or something, but as TK picks up the book recognition shines in his eyes and Carlos cringes internally.

“Oh this is a cute one!” He says, smiling brightly as he hands Carlos the book. “Although the cover is a little cliché,” he laughs and Carlos is so dead. He’s never coming back to this library. It’s too bad though he really liked it. He hasn’t experienced a library having both such a good cook book section and an lgbt+ section that updates its selection of cheesy romance novels every month.

“I picked that out myself actually,” TK talks on but Carlos can barely hear him above the ringing in his ears. He vaguely registers TK say something about the librarian theme being his own little inside joke, and oh god, TK must be aware of how much that guy on the cover looks like him. Carlos has never felt so mortified. And okay, maybe he’s being a tad overdramatic but Carlos has also never experienced a crush like the one he has on TK, and he’s usually pretty good at keeping himself out of embarrassing situations.

“Carlos? Are you okay?” Carlos is once again brought out of a spiral, this time of another kind, by TK’s voice, this time laden with the same concern that colors his face. “Do you need to sit down?” Now TK’s is reaching out a tentative hand towards him and Carlos needs to answer before he has an even more embarrassing reaction to TK actually touching him.

“I’m fine!” He squeaks and seriously what’s up with the puberty part two he’s apparently going through right now? He’s 29 not 15 goddammit! The universe must hate him. TK is understandably not looking very convinced.

“Are you sure? It is pretty hot I’m here and you are wearing a lot of clothes.”

Carlos has to hold himself back from making the situation worse by laughing hysterically at the non-innuendo that only serves his earlier thought about being stuck in some bad romantic comedy. Or maybe more like a bad porn. Maybe removing Mr. Perfect, Book and Cover from the shelf opened up a portal that sucked Carlos in without him knowing and now he’s stuck in the story being badly flirted with by Mr. Perfect himself. He’s realizing his thoughts are a clear sign that he definitely isn’t done spiraling.

He gathers all his self control and manages a completely sane sounding “really, I’m fine,“ and even pairs it with a very normal-looking smile.

“Alright,” TK says slowly, retracting his hand to Carlos’ immense relief. “If you’re sure,” he adds, the concern dissipating hesitantly from his eyes.

Carlos realizes that now is the time to engage in polite small talk to prove to TK that he is really both physically and mentally okay, but there is something naggingly floating around just outside his head and out of reach, something his brain can’t put together. If TK recognizes the book.. if he picked it out..

He can’t finish the thought before he’s interrupted for the third time by TK, who is now the one looking sheepish for some reason, a lovely pink blush adorning his cheeks to go with the green of his eyes. One more thing that Carlos has become familiar with to an embarrassing degree considering how few times he’s actually seen them.

“So,” TK begins, looking briefly down and biting his lip, “I’m actually glad I ran into you. I was um-,” and now it’s TK’s turn to clear his throat before he continues: “Well I was wondering if uh- if- whether you were doing anything this Saturday?” He finishes, blinking back up at Carlos and smiling cutely, eyes sparkling, and looking, for the first time since Carlos met him, a tiny bit insecure.

[not-an-alien-scientist]

Human: Dude I'm not so sure about this whole pack bonding thing you've been talking about humans don't even like each other

Alien: Well is it not true that your species collectively grieved over a non-sentient robot on the planet I believe you designate as "'Mars"?

Human: Okay look, that's different, Opportunity's last words just broke our hearts okay

Alien: But... it did not send a last message of words. It was merely the last data recorded by the non-sentient robot. The data showed scientists low power and also indicated the skies on the planet were dark to the point where no sunlight was visible at the time of the last data transfer, nothing more. x

Human: Exactly

Alien: So why does your species grieve over basic data?

Human: Well you just said it "My battery is low and its getting dark"

Alien: That is a poetic translation of basic data

Human: Are you trying to dishonor Opportunity's work?

Alien: N-no I jus- - -

Human: Opportunity was a good boy who did his best. End of story *huffs out and goes to grab some soda*

Alien: *watches human walk away without any farewell words* ?!?!? *jots down in notes* [ Humans can be very protective of their own even when challenged with basic facts, proceed with caution when discussing pack mates of any type, including all non-sentient pack mates. ]

[tlirswriting]

Martian: 

adj. Belonging or relating to the planet or people of Mars 

> In the year 2280, a young man stands in front of his bathroom mirror and runs a hand through his hair, interspersed with delicate tendrils, glowing faintly blue at the tips. 

> He hesitates for a moment, scissors in hand, before grabbing a section of hair and chopping it off, white-hot pain shooting down his spine. Unclenching his fist, he drops a chunk of dark hair in his sink, along with a few writhing sensory organs similar to catfish whiskers. Biting his tongue, he repeats the process around his head, shaking and nauseous by the time it's done. He opens his eyes, and he looks mostly Human. 

> His name is Atlas, and he is dying. 

> Atlas struggles against the artificial gravity to step into the shower without his joint braces on, grabbing onto a thick metal bar to steady himself and sinking down to a small plastic stool. The water sputters on, rinsing the blood dripping from his scalp. 

Welcome to life on Mars

[itsmarsss]

early bird

request: hii i love scandalous and was if would you ever write a poly ozzie/fizz/reader fic?? no pressure or anything, i really love how you write and after the angst (and the more to come from future chapters) something cute and soft would be needed lol (also fizz in suspenders💞💞 😔)

You jolt awake at the sound of a horn. That fucking horn. No matter how many times you throw it away, Fizz, somehow, finds some way to have another one the next morning. You don’t think it’s too far-off to suspect he hides a secret stash of them somewhere in the house. 

You groan, shoving a pillow over your head to conceal the noise, but it’s to no avail as Fizz pulls it from you. 

Ozzie stirs, and he gently pulls your head off his chest so he can sit up just to glare at Fizz. “Could you not?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Why’d you wake us up so early?” You question. “None of us has to be up until 9 today.”

“And how do you know it’s not 9?”

“The sun is literally still rising,” you tell him, pointing at the big window across the room. 

“Well I woke up and I had to go to the bathroom and then I couldn’t sleep again and I tried! But I couldn’t. And I don’t wanna be the only one awake…” he pouts, and he’s obviously trying to get pity points with that so as to not get further complaints about the horn thing. 

It gets Ozzie immediately. “Oh don’t make that face you know I can’t resist it.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why I make it,” he crosses his arms over his chest and smiles, tongue poking out a corner of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile of your own. Can’t argue with that flawless logic. “What do you even wanna do so early?”

Fizz moves his body towards you by extending his legs, getting his face impossibly close to yours as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You get the hint, and laugh before planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re cute. But no way. Still too tired.”

He exaggerates  an eye roll. “So lame!”

“And yet! You still love me.”

“Barely.”

“HA!” Ozzie laughs at him sarcastically.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a simp, Froggie.”

“Am not!”

“S-I-M-P. Simp.”

“So are you!”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Ozzie defends himself, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, everyone’s a simp. Now can we go get some breakfast or what?”

“Thought you said you were too tired.”

“I’m never too tired for breakfast, Froggie,” you pinch his cheek.

“Hey!” Ozzie complains, pretending to take offense to you making fun of his nickname for Fizz, despite it being a routinely occurrence since forever, and pulling him in a tight embrace.

Fizz squeezes himself out of Ozzie’s embrace, laughing, and you all get up off the bed. “Soooo what are we having?” He asks as the three of you exit the bedroom, and you both look up at Ozzie, expectantly. 

“Why am I the one who has to make it?”

“I mean, I can make it if you want,” Fizz says, and the three of you laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“Yeah, no.” Ozzie affirms, serious, before looking at you with a raised brow. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m just soo, soo tired, baby, look,” you pretend to yawn, and Fizz tries (and fails) not to laugh at it.

“You help me or no deal.”

“No fair! And Fizzy just watches?”

“Thought you liked it when I… watched… you two.”

“Your charm can’t get you out of everything, you know that?”

“It’s been working so far.”

“You’re too smug sometimes, Froggie,” Ozzie comments as he crosses the kitchen to get something, not turning around to say it.

“I already said I can cook if you really want me to!”

“Not after last time!”

“See?” Fizz tells you. “He won’t let me!”

“Oh and you’re obviously sooo bummed about it.”

He smiles, and Ozzie nudges you with a pink spatula. “Here.”

You realize he’s put on his frilly, tiny baby blue apron, and smile at the sight. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m thousands of years old and, like, three times bigger than you.”

“And so what do we say?”

Ozzie lets out a giggle. “Thank you, babe,” he pulls you towards him by your waist, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Okay, so what are we making? What do I do with this?” You wave the spatula he handed you around.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“Waffles!” Fizz yells out.

“Ohhh, yes!” You agree.

“I could eat some waffles,” Ozzie decides.

“Hell yeah!” Both you and Fizz exclaim at the same time, high-fiving each other. 

You didn’t care about being woken up so early anymore.

[wolvesbaned]

sad butch werewolf i love you.

[fawnssy]

he’s like a little bug 🤲

[cruesuffix]

if you love him so much why don’t ya marry him??!!! /j

(but also nikki can you kiss and make up with him already, jeez…)

[mossy-paws]

Lightblox (PHIGHTING!)

“And I’m floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today.”

alt versions:

[bugsinshoes]

"MORE AYSEL CONTENT!" i say as i throw this to you.

i have had the concept rattling around in my brain for a while, and I've finally done it!

i like to imagine Ford kept a few journals documenting his travels during those 30 years he was gone, so i couldn't help myself but make a page when ford first met aysel.

i actually had a lot of fun making this hehehehe :-]

(close ups under the cut)

[lemongogo]

why do i love the conflict more than anything else . the misery . the incompatibility that spreads like oil slick . wanting so desperately for resolution that never comes . hmmm

[loversj0y]

stoner wilbur

you decide to start being more outgoing, though after a party doesnt go perfectly to plan, a classmate is there to help you out a bit

wilbur soot x reader

this is lil gift for @lyssys

tw for smoking, marijuana, and mentions of being overwhelmed. also slight suggestive material

word count: 2.1k

pls do not smoke unless u are of legal age and live in a place where it is legal for you to <3

You weren’t one to usually go to house parties. They were gross, full of way too many people, and entirely overwhelming. However, you made an exception this time because you decided, with the new year and the new semester starting, that you wanted to get out more. Your number of friends were quickly dwindling down, so your resolution was to do better: start saying yes instead of no (as long as you were comfortable and safe). You felt more comfortable and safe going to this party than most of the ones you’d heard about recently. It was being thrown by some first-year undergrads, so unlike some cheap frat party, you actually had a bit of hope. You were older than most of the people at the party, but there were of few of your classmates there, so you didn’t feel entirely out of place. The party’s hosts were loud, and when you’d seen them at first, you geniunely thought that they were some year twelves who’d snuck in. However, you quickly realized that these were, in fact, the people throwing the party, considering how one of them, Tommy, had run up to you and handed you a bottle of beer, calling it “compliments of the host” as if he was some Gatsby-ian party thrower and not an 18 year old trying to leave a good impression on the older students. The beer was cheap, but not horrible, you’d certainly had worse, but it was when you finished drink two – a cup of their finest jungle juice, Tommy noted – that you started to feel just how overwhelming the whole environment was. You could feel the bass in the music through your skull, and you found a way to escape the bright LEDs by slipping through the door to the back yard. 

You took a deep breath, pleased by the much calmer atmosphere of the backyard. There were Edison bulb string lights hung up around the backyard, giving it a nice glow, as well as a small table with a few seats. There were a few people, but they seemed to corral themselves towards the left side of the fence. It was such a stark contrast to the inside, and you felt chilled by the outside air, though it was more likely the lack of people accounting for the temperature change. As you took a deep breath, wanting to steady yourself, you heard a voice from behind you.

“Y/N?” 

You turned quickly. It was one of your classmates, you knew that, but you struggled to place him for a moment. He was leaning against the wall cooly, one hand fiddling with a small metal container. He was tall, with soft brown curls that fell in front of his face. It hit you after a moment. 

“Wilbur, right? From sound editing?”

He nodded, his face seemingly lighting up when you remembered him. You walked over, hands in your pockets, standing at a slight distance. 

“What are you doing here? Not to sound rude, but you’re the last person I expected to see in a place like this.”

“I could ask you the same,” he chuckled softly, “but Tommy is my… not brother, but he may as well be. We grew up together. He invited me, and I didn’t want to say no.”

You nodded softly. “That makes sense. He’s quite a loud one. Never would’ve expected the two of you to be close.”

“Trust me, I question it every day.” He smiled, and you don’t know how you never noticed just how nice of a smile he had. “What about you?”

“Hm?” You had to bring yourself back to the conversation, a bit distracted by him, “Oh. I’ve been trying to say yes to more things. Be more outgoing and stuff. Really make the most of the whole ‘University Experience.’” You joked lightly. 

“Oh, yeah? How’s that been working out for you?”

“Well… this is my first time actually doing anything different, so it’s only up from here, I suppose.”

He nodded, smiling a bit, “What are you doing out here then? Not exactly being outgoing if you’re standing out here alone.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m alone,” you smiled up at him, the alcohol in your system making you a tad bit more bold than normal. Then you sighed lightly, answering his question, “I got a bit overwhelmed. As you noticed, this isn’t exactly my environment.”

“Ahh,” he nodded, making a noise of understanding. “I know what you mean. I got the same feeling, actually. Hence why I’m out here,” He brought a hand up, adjusting the beanie on his head. He lifted the metal container in his hand, “to calm down.”

You gave the container a better look now in the light, recognizing it as a cigarette tray. “Cigarettes? I didn’t think you’d be the type”

“Not cigarettes,” he chuckled lightly. He opened it up, pulling out a joint. Oh. “Do you smoke?”

You shook your head, “Uh, not really, I’ve done it a few times, but I-”

“Sorry, let me rephrase. Do you want to smoke?”

You looked up at him. This boy, who had no business being this cute and who you shared one class with, was offering for you to get high with him. You thought back to your oath of saying yes more often. Well, he didn’t make you uncomfortable, and you were in a pretty safe place anyways, so… “Yeah.”

He grinned softly, putting the joint up to his lips, and somehow, that alone put a blush on your cheeks. He had no damn right to look this good while smoking. He pulled out a zippo, flicking it open with ease and lighting the joint, taking a long drag. He made it look so incredibly sensual and easy. He pulled the joint from his lips, handing it over. You took it and held it to your lips. You did not make it look as easy, taking a quick hit and holding it, trying to look cool, but coughing quickly after. 

He just smiled, no sense of judgement at all, “You’ll get used to it. Let’s go sit down?”

You nodded, and the two of you walked to the old metal table, sitting in the chairs next to each other. He took the joint from you, and you started a good rotation of for every two hits he took, you took one. You started to feel a nice warm feeling throughout your body, a slight buzz washing over you that truly did help relax you after the stress of inside.

As he passed the joint to you, he spoke up, “So, what make you want to start saying yes to stuff?”

You blew out a slow stream of smoke, shrugging, “I got lonely, I guess. I don’t hang out with many people, so I figured that doing more things would help.” You tilted your head back, looking up at the night sky.

“Has it been helping so far?”

You leaned your head back up, looking over at him with a smile, “I think it’s starting to go well.” You put the joint to your lips, going to take a hit before noticing it was out. You pouted a bit, looking up at him, “it went out.” 

He nodded, grabbing his lighter. You put the joint back to your mouth as he flicked open his lighter, holding the flame to the end of the joint until it glowed a soft amber, and you took a slow, deep inhale. You passed the joint back to him, exhaling. He looked at you quietly, looking down at the joint for a moment before looking back at you.

“Do you know what shotgunning is?”

You looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“Do you want to try it? It’s not anything bad, I promise.”

You nodded, sitting up a bit. He turned to you. “So, I’m going to get kind of close to you, just relax, and breathe in. You’ll know when to, okay?”

“Okay.” You could feel your heartbeat pounding through you at the mention of him getting closer to you, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. He pulled the joint up to his lips, taking a long inhale. He held his breath, gently grabbing your chin and getting closer. His lips were just centimeters away, the slightest slip and they’d be on yours. He started slowly blowing the smoke out, and it took you a moment to process that this was when you were supposed to breathe in. You closed your eyes, breathing in slowly. You only opened your eyes when you realized he’d already moved back, and you slowly breathed out, feeling weak in the knees. 

“So? What did you think?”

“That was,” any sense of a filter you had went out the door the second the joint had touched your lips, “hot.” You immediately flushed, holding your hand over your mouth and starting to laugh, “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”

He started laughing as well, and if you’d looked, you would’ve seen a matching blush on his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re not wrong.”

Your heartbeat a bit faster at that, but the grin never left your face. Your conversations flowed easily, until the entire joint had been smoked to just a roach. He tucked it back into his cigarette holder, pocketing it once again before turning back to you. You two spoke about a lot of things, mostly life and whether or not the ants on the table could take over the world if they tried. You found it easier to talk than usual, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was the weed or Wilbur. Whichever it was didn’t matter, you were just so incredibly aware of the warm feeling in your chest. You were honestly a bit annoyed at yourself for never having a proper conversation with him in class before, although it wasn’t entirely on you, since that professor was a harsh one. The world felt a lot lighter, and you two spent what could’ve easily been hours or minutes talking. You knew that it was hours when Tommy came outside, walking over to you both.

“Wilbur,” he started, “are you staying here with me and Toby tonight? Just about everyone’s left by now.”

Wilbur shook his head, “probably not. I was planning on walking home.”

Tommy nodded, “thank God because I did not feel like fixing up the spare room.” He spared you a wave before turning back around, wishing us both a goodnight before walking back inside. 

You sighed, “Guess I should probably get back too.”

Wilbur looked back over at you, “Do you live far?”

You shrugged, “Not too far. Just about three streets over.’

He nodded, then stood, “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” “Don’t worry about it. I want to.” He smiled. You nodded, standing carefully. You stumbled a bit, not quite used to moving after sitting and getting high, though the high was starting to fade now. He quickly moved a hand to your back, helping steady you. He kept his hand there the entire time you walked back to your small apartment, and it made butterflies flutter in your stomach. When you reached your front door, you turned to him with a soft smile. 

“Thanks for tonight. I had a much better time with you than had I stayed inside there.”

He chuckled softly, “You don’t have to thank me. I would’ve been the same way had you not been there.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning it to you, “if you don’t mind though, it would be nice to get your number. That way I could take you out on a date sometime, maybe, if you’d like?” He sounded incredibly unsure of himself, which made you laugh a bit.

“I would absolutely like that.” You took his phone, entering your contact in before handing it back to him. “I had a really great time tonight, Wilbur. Sleep well, and text me when you’re home, alright?”

He nodded quickly, and, without really thinking about it, you pulled him in for a tight hug. He hugged you back, a blush covering his face. 

“Have a good night,” he told you, and as you both pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

You blushed, and a wide grin covered your face, one that you couldn’t quite hide even if you tried, “goodnight, Wilbur.” You walked into your apartment, closing the door behind you and leaning against it. He sent you a text about ten minutes later letting you know he made it home and sending a message to reiterate the “goodnight” with a small text heart next to it that filled you with warmth. Maybe you could get used to this saying yes thing. 

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Happy (Seven Sentence) Sunday !!! Thank you @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter @nisbanisba for the tags! <3 <3

This is actually very close to seven sentences hehe, and is from a 5x05 coda that is unsurprisingly turning long and introspective and also suddenly containing an over the top amount of sea and boat metaphors over which I had no control. Here’s to manifesting that it’ll actually be finished at some point soon🤞🏻👀

His parents had been crashing waves of passion, and a sea of love so deep it felt impossible that they were suddenly stranded in the shallows, hitting rock bottom. At least for a seven year old mind who couldn't grasp all the details. At seven, to TK it had felt like waves that turned suddenly loud, dangerous, nauseating and then out of nowhere they stilted. Suddenly the way they looked at each other was so... eerily neutral, the same with their tones when they sat him down and explained that they were getting a divorce. None of the banter, or the over-the top PDA or even the fight was there anymore. And TK, at seven, felt like he was suddenly drifting along in his own little boat, watching it happen, wondering why the three of them weren’t together in the rolling waves of love and laughter that gave tummy aches.

(As always) OPEN TAG for anyone who wants to play,

And ✨No Pressure✨ tags under the cut:

(I have taken the liberty to add a few to the list who I know play or who I see around and who have interacted with my wip posts before - please lmk if you want to be removed or added to the list :) !!!)

@welcometololaland @firstprince-history-huh @lemonlyman-dotcom @lightningboltreader

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @never-blooms @carlos-in-glasses @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos

@carlos-tk @alrightbuckaroo @ladytessa74 @strandnreyes

@captain-gillian @goldenskykaysani @rmd-writes @your-catfish-friend

@nancys-braids @emsprovisions @thoughtsickles @nisbanisba

@ironheartwriter @corsage @whatsintheboxmh @goodways

@the-126-family @meditating-honey-badger @chicgeekgirl89 @theghostofashton

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders @literateowl

@dramalets @reyesstrand @lonestardust @lutavero

@tkslittlesway @loustyleshtommo @mrs-corrections-78 @sapphic--kiwi

@tellmegoodbye @decafdino

[graveltrapping]

Debutant | doe eyes

Female Marc Marquez snippet

Next

The first thing Dani Pedrosa thought after meeting Mar Marquez was that she looked rather fawn like.

Dainty and small (though still taller than himself), the tiniest dappling of freckles across delicate cheekbones, all pulled together by a pair of big glassy black eyes and even darker lashes. Long and curling, they brushed her cheeks with each blink. The team kit Honda had given her was ill fitted and seemed to swallow her whole, arms and shoulders gaping around her, while the soft high collar of the fleeces she seemed to love cradled her smiling face. She looked soft. Wide eyed, curios, but bafflingly confident in a slightly disarming way that had Dani a little off balance.

Jorge could see the resemblance.

He could see the softness that she still carried, baby fat still making her cheeks rounded and plush. Pillowy lips and fluffy hair curling around ears that stuck out in an almost childish way she didn’t seem to grow out of. Her helmet hair, spilling out of the short little braids in crazy tight ringlets that stood in every direction, seemed to shave even more years off of her already young age. Those big doe eyes.

Dani had left the comparison slip once, the words tumbling past his lips after a few too many drinks as he recounted their first test rides on the bike, but Jorge couldn’t help but think she was really more like a wolf. Maybe it was her smile, all perfect and sharp teeth, so many exposed as she laughed loudly and showed off those disarming dimples, maybe it was how dark her eyes were, such a rich brown it would be easier to call them black. Maybe it was how all she seemed to do was hunt. On track, off track, those dark eyes following and watching and learning. 

So pretty but intense and unnerving in a way that had Jorge feeling almost small.

Eclipsed, maybe.

Valentino, it was hard to imagine what he thought of Mar.

Rossi seemed to think something similar to him but there was a disarming softness to the looks he gave the young woman that made Jorge think that just maybe he was fooled by the baby deer look she had to her, fooled like many others through the feeder series. The older man, a nine times champion, had clocked something in the rookie that was almost parallel to himself. It drew him in a little, maybe blinded him for a second, but Qatar had certainly been an awakening. Sudden, aggressive, unyielding, she had passed Valentino Rossi again and again and again. He had responded in kind but had just barely held on to second place by the skin of his teeth. She had been right behind him, barely meters between their bikes as she sped up the start finish straight hunched down in the seat, fighting to the last millisecond. 

So small, leathers deigned to blend with the bike, it had been hard to tell where she ended and machine began.

She was off like a shot though as soon as they were in parc ferme, a blur of white and orange, unmissable in the see of Yamahas royal blue. Even as he celebrated his own win standing tall on the bike, he could see her pressed against the barriers and held up by her team just enough her feet dangled a few inches off of the ground. Yamaha staff mingled with the Honda, all wanting to congratulate the bombshell rookie, and he could even see Uccio land a few solid slaps on her back. He had lost sight of her after that. Descended into the throws of his team to celebrate his first win of the season, Valentinos team mingling and melding with his own to make an even bigger crowd while photographers and reports swelled closer like a wave ready to brake on the barriers.

He doesn’t see her again until Rossi is on her, dragging her in for a congratulatory hug and slap on the back that have her glasses tumbling off and her smile widening even further, all dimples and sharp teeth. First race in the premier class and she had almost beat the most successful rider on track. She looked proud of herself, electrified, but somehow not at all surprised. Like she thought she could beat him. She probably could.

Jorge watched out of the corner of his eye for a second, half focused on the interview in front of him, as Valentino slapped his hand against the rookies shoulder and said something that made her laugh loudly, hands fluttering around fixing her sunglasses in a way that betrayed her nerves. Her head bobbed, short black curls spilling out from under her red cap, before she was cut from sight by a man ushering her towards the podium stairs. Rossi gravitated towards his section of the barriers a second later and clapped him on the back with a much more casual smile.

“She’s good” Was the first thing Jorge said to him.

“She’s was coming to take me, no?” Valentino laughed.

He barley had time to nod before the same man was ushering both him and his teammate towards the cooldown room that was long and narrow, walls all beige and bare making all three riders look like obnoxious walking pain blotches that were completely unmissable. They were impossible to miss anyway, room packed tight with riders and presenters and media staff hauling cameras and microphones looming just outside blocking the way out and boxing them in. Elbows clashed, everyone packed tight, and Jorge watched as Valentino squeezed past Mar to grab his bottle. His hand slid just over her ribs as he manoeuvred her just a tiny bit to the side, the young spaniard easy under his hands, before slipping back into place near the door and saying something to her that her laughing one again. Even with the Italian half leant on the table she had to look up at him, head tilted back, laughing all open mouthed and dimpled. she looked deceptively soft. 

The comparison Dani made came back to mind.

Valentinos thoughts hadn’t seemed to change though, still looking at her like he knew her, like he recognised something in her that could be great in the future, like maybe this was a fluke or rookie luck to get so close so fast. Jorge however could see it. That impatience that was already winding its way into her bones, searing into her skin. Standing there beside the champion, she looked more like the race winner with how she held herself. She had gotten close. So close. She wasn’t going to wait for anything, certainly wasn’t going to be refined or helped along, no, she’d prefer to just take it. She’d take Valentino next time round. She looked like she wanted too. Always there, so incredibly ready to just throw herself into corner after corner, melding herself to the machine on the straights. Even after they crossed the line, her stare had been dissecting. Always flickering back to Valentino the moment he looked away from her.

Jorge could feel that stare on him now.

Stood on the top stop, it was almost burning, but he pushed it to the side. She wanted exactly what he had and he knew it. After all, she was two down and he was up top, first win of the season and taken by a considerable margin. She should probably try to be content that she was even on the podium on her debut race, her driving wild enough to take both herself and Rossi out if not careful, the track punishing and cruel on tires and riders. Who was he to really care though. His title fight had the perfect start.

No Champagne today, but the victory still tasted so sweet.

[tlirswriting]

[They Colonized Mars, entry 3 // start here]

For the world is hollow 

> Stepping outside into the Martian evening, light scattered by the dusty atmosphere paints the city shades of pale violet through the glass dome covering it, the distant sun appearing blue as it sets over the horizon. Two moons rise across from each other in the east and west; both smaller than Earth's Luna, and less round, bumpy and roughly egg-shaped. 

> Mars is colder than it looks — a desert of red sand and rocks — and while the biosphere is heated to tolerable levels, it still isn't toasty in the warehouse district. Atlas’ boots crunch into a thin layer of ice on the sidewalk, SaM-B's claw-like feet scratching for friction beside him. 

> “Do you have a name?” He asks it. “A real one, just for yourself?” 

> “My designation is unit number one-thousand-three-hundred-and-forty—” 

> “But is it you?”

> It thinks for a second. “I don't know.” 

> “Fair enough,” He shrugs. “Just something to think about.” 

> It beeps. “Connection lost — I am out of network sensor range.” 

> Atlas uncovers its cameras and shoves his vest into his bag. 

> “Oh.” SaM-B pauses in its tracks, blinking its lights. 

> “What do you think?” Atlas adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

> It looks around for a moment, angling upwards to the tops of buildings. 

> “Hey.” He nudges it with his foot. “What do you think?” 

> “I don't know,” It beeps. “I've never seen the sky before.” 

> Shuttles intermittently shoot down the tracks beside them, stirring up clouds of red-orange dust. 

> “I have somewhere I want to show you,” He says. “Somewhere… Somewhere fun. For people like us to go when we’re not working.”

> “I am ‘people’?”

> He thinks. “Sure, if you want to be.” 

> They make their way through the city, neon signs flickering on as the night darkens. Moving away from the warehouses and factories, there are smaller businesses, repair shops and defunct mattress stores. Atlas ducks into an alleyway, following a familiar path twisting down a few levels, and there, underneath a tattoo parlour, is somewhere to go. 

[brain-rot-central]

I came up with another spicy scene for what's supposed to be the domstarion fic and it makes me yell (in a good way). But in typical me fashion, the whole thing is rapidly becoming a switchbitch fic. You know me and my love of power balance.

So.

Tavstarion switchbitch fic. It's just happening. I'm not fighting it anymore.

[marsontherocks]

Had a very nice and wonderful dream that Quincey was a veterinarian, and that Jack owned a really small parakeet, and of course Arthur has his dogs.

In the dream Jack was getting his bird checked cause he was acting weird. Bird was fine btw so don't worry.

Really love how I've been so obsessed with Dracula that I'm starting to dream of fic ideas