#google doc just called

[turnippencil]

Writing is fun, but this scene is gnawing at my brain

Have crumbs of the constant mental drumming of my narilamb infatuation

♡ More underneath ♡

For a fic I want to write so bad. At this point, I have parts I want to get to, but I need to

connect the dangly bits with an actual plot. Gotta churn out words faster to write this part pleaseeee

No time to design cool clothes just go with the basics

[zeldamacgregor]

I made this to call myself out but please feel free to hold up a mirror if you need one also.

[anqelbean]

SHIZUN LBH AND DISCIPLE SY??? PLEASE TELL US MORE I'M FERAL

I, too, am feral over these two nonnie, so I shall continue cause you asked so nicely <3

So, the PIDW of this universe follows the immortal lord Luo Binghe, Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, Demon Emperor on the side (shhhhh, that part's a secret).

Binghe is (seemingly) righteous and noble, but in truth he's always 1 step away from destroying Cang Qiong Mountain. His thread of hope for humanity is about to snap, which is not at all helped by Xin Mo, who has almost taken his mind over completely.

Enter Shen Yuan, transmigrator extraordinaire, disciple of Qing Jing Peak. The person that's supposed to expose Luo Binghe's demonic heritage to the world and kickstart the conquering of the Human Realm by the Demon Emperor, leading to Shen Yuan's eventually becoming a human stick.

Well, he doesn't want to die like that! Who would! So thigh hugging it is!

Thankfully the System in this world isn't as strict as in canon, so he does have one way of saving himself: if Shen Jiu had become Head Disciple, he would not have wanted to expose Luo Binghe.

He tries his darned best to get close to Luo Binghe, although clumsily. He always ends up walking into things when he's around 'cause he was gawking at him. Which, he reasons, is a perfectly normal thing for a disciple to do! To admire his Shizun! Especially since his Shizun was THE protagonist!

Luo Binghe doesn't know what to think of him at first. Clumsy, starry-eyed, always with his nose in the books like he's trying to memorise all the characters, not just its contents, talented enough, but lacking in experience, perfect recipe for disaster. He needs to keep an eye on him if he doesn't want to deal with a dead disciple.

But. It's strange. No one's ever looked at him like that. He knows his disciples admire him, but all of them are so terrified of him they don't dare to get close, lest they end up doing more chores as punishment. But, this Shen Yuan. It's like. Like he's not scared? Like Luo Binghe is...someone worthy of hero-worship. He can't even admit it to himself, but he cannot help but preen under his clumsy disciple's adoring gaze.

Then, a candle accidentally falls in Shen Yuan's dorm, and there's no room for him left. All his roommates went to their friends' rooms, but Shen Yuan didn't have any close friends on the peak! Where should he go???

Luo Binghe…feels he needs to play the good Shizun. It's just an act, of course. He doesn't actually care for the boy. He needs to play the cool, distant immortal, kind enough to take in a stray. He has Shen Yuan move into his side room, BUT only temporarily.

And so it begins.

Luo Binghe finds himself enjoying having someone to cook for again. He himself doesn't need to eat, so he only really does it when trying to woo a demoness into his bed. But with Shen Yuan, it's different. He hasn't cooked for someone just for them to satiate their hunger since his mother. It almost feels…intimate. Seeing Shen Yuan not eat his food so much as inhale it, hearing the sincere praise from the child's mouth… It's all too much.

It doesn't help that the boy is actually quite shameless. Taking off all his layers except one the moment he's home, even his pants! He is just prancing around with all his skin for the world to see! It makes him want to scold him, to take his layers and dress him back up himself just so he doesn't have the image of those long, long legs of Shen Yuan's stuck in his mind. So he does, “Disciple Shen should be more mindful of his appearance,” he says, desperately trying to ignore Shen Yuan's pretty red face as he stammers 'shizun' while Luo Binghe ties his robes, “Anyone could walk in, it's indecent.” And incredibly distracting, he doesn't say.

Few months pass, Luo Binghe realises one thing: this boy is the only person worthy of respect on his entire peak. If something were to happen to him, he would raze the entire mountain to the ground, himself included.

He tries everything just to touch the boy. He fixes his robes, put his hands on his shoulders, picks him up during nighthunts when things get intense, and if he touches him a little more than necessary while correcting his sword forms, well, no one notices.

For once, something has moved his cold, dead heart and Luo Binghe is a hungry soul, bleeding for more, unwilling to let go of this new tiny light he's found, wishing to devour and devour, till no one else can steal it from him, like everything else good in his miserable, lonely life.

Visual representation of this au

[wreckedandpolemic]

anything that you wanna - matty healy

(mdni) in which you take matty apart. piece by piece. part of the regret me universe. 2397 words.

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, degradation, sub!matty, pegging, oral (kind of? you’ll see), feminisation? calling him princess idk, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it choking

(huge thank you to @abouttofillhisshoes without whom this fic would not exist bc i must have read facedown as reference material at least 10 times while writing this)

You didn’t really mean for him to find it. It just amuses you to make Matty take part in his own unmaking, so you sent him off to collect your ropes and the toys you need to take him apart. When he doesn’t come back, though, you pick yourself up to find him and punish him for wasting your fucking time. He’s kneeling on your floor, his back to you and a toy you can’t see in his hands, entirely transfixed. “What’s so interesting, huh?” He drops the toy like it’s burned him, guilt painted scarlet across his face as he turns to face you. “Don’t be shy, baby.” You stalk across the room, leaning down to see what he’s looking at. Your lips part in a surprised little gasp as you realise he’s staring down at your strap, fingers running over purple silicone like he’s worshipping it. “Oh,” you smirk. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about with that, baby?”

“Do you… Is this, um, yours?” There’s a nervous tremble in his voice that you can’t help grinning at.

“No, I keep someone else’s strap in a box under my bed,” you deadpan, leaning down over him with a crowing smirk. Matty shudders, deliberately avoiding your eyes. “Is there something you want, pretty boy?” you ask, sitting in front of him on the bed and gripping his jaw to force his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are wide, glassy with desire. “Spit it out, darling. If you don’t ask, you won’t get,” you smirk, digging your nails into his jaw. “Don’t make me force you to tell me.”

Matty flushes crimson, words coming out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. “Was thinkin’ about you fucking me,” he murmurs, and you feel a heavy pulse of arousal in your cunt.

Closing your eyes as visions of Matty fucked dumb and drooling fill your head, “Shit,” you hiss. “Yeah, we can do that if you want, baby. Come here.” You cup his cheek, uncharacteristically gentle as Matty sits down next to you, and he shudders at your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Have you ever done this before?”

Shifting his hips subtly, Matty lowers his eyes and swallows thickly, seemingly realising you’re taking this seriously. “Only, uh… by myself,” he confesses quietly, and you have to bite down hard to keep yourself from moaning.

“Fuck,” you groan, thighs clenching. “You like that? Fucking yourself like a girl?” Condescension drips from your tone, and Matty moans low in his throat. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you like you’re my pretty girlfriend?” Squirming under your hard, unflinching gaze, he nods slowly. “Why don’t you take those clothes off for me, then, princess?”

Matty strips eagerly, and you drink in the sight of newly-revealed, toned skin as you fix the harness onto your hips. His eyes glaze over as they travel up your body, glued to the silicone hanging between your legs. He’s practically drooling as he speaks. “Please, I want…” He whines softly, making a greedy, grabbing motion at you. “I need you to fuck me.”

You laugh meanly, gripping his jaw. “Not yet, darling. Have some patience, yeah?” Words he’s used on you dozens of times, but seemingly doesn’t understand, grasping your hips and thighs where you kneel above him. “How bad do you want it, princess?” Matty gives a low, shuddering moan, pleas springing to his lips as the degrading epithet washes over him. “You wanna get on your knees for me? Suck my dick before I fuck you like a good girl?”

His eyes go wide with disbelief, and you just jerk your head and shrug. “Fuck, okay,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want.” Oh, he wants it bad, you realise. Whatever you want isn’t a string of syllables either of you put together often, reserved for your deepest, most desperate desires. Like the time you begged him to tie you up and use you like a fuckdoll, needing your brain shut off and thinking of nothing but where on your body he’d cum all over next. A dizzy smile crosses your face at the memory, lust spiking in your core.

Matty’s on his knees under you, cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs and drool pooling in his mouth. There’s a question in his gaze as he looks up at you, brown eyes wide and glimmering with lust and trepidation. “Aw, baby, do you need me to talk you through it? Teach my pretty girl how to suck dick like a slut?” He nods wildly, hips rocking against nothing as you thread a hand through his curls. “D’you remember how I do it? How good it feels when I get you off with my mouth? Yeah? Start slow for me, okay, princess? Kiss the tip.”

The power he’s handed you is heady, deliriating as he debases himself, slowly kissing and licking at the silicone of the toy. “That’s it, baby,” you say, groaning as if he’s really giving you head. “Nice and slow, you can take it.” The toy slides slowly between his lips, swollen and dripping with spit as he inches down. The corners of Matty’s mouth stretch pornographically, a pleading little moan escaping him as the toy meets the back of his throat. You thrust messily into his mouth and he gags, desperately searching for friction and grinding his hips in the air pathetically. Sliding a hand into his hair, you press his head down, laughing cruelly when he gags helplessly, redoubling his efforts and moaning. Drool drips obscenely down his chin, the sight of him in such a wanton state sending heat dripping between your legs. He whines up at you when you pull him off, tears brimming in his wide, pleading eyes. “Gotta work on your gag reflex, princess. Look at you, crying ‘cause you had my cock too deep down your throat. Pathetic,” you scoff.

“M’sorry,” Matty whimpers, so feebly that you almost feel sorry for him, nudging him to his feet and back onto the bed.

You fish in your bedside drawer for lube, handing it to him with a saccharine smile. “Get that pretty hole ready for me, yeah?” Matty’s chest heaves, spreading his legs wide as he slicks up his fingers. He traces slick circles around his hole, your cunt pulsing needing at the mere sight of him.

Pushing a finger into himself, he lets out an obscene moan, your blood racing faster as his lips part around ecstasy. Eagerly, you watch him gasp and moan at the intrusion, his eyes lidded and black with lust. Pure pleasure fills his expression as Matty slowly drags his finger out and back in, deeper this time. “Tell me how you feel, baby,” you instruct, pulse roaring in your ears and your body tense with desire.

“Feels fucking good,” Matty groans, back arching and a broken moan slipping from his lips as he slides a second finger into his hole. “Gonna feel even better when you’re fucking me into the mattress,” he adds, a shit-eating grin painted on his swollen lips.

“God, look at that pretty little hole, princess. Look so gorgeous, fucking yourself like that. Gonna fuck you dumb,” you promise, entranced by the sounds falling from Matty’s lips as he curls his fingers inside himself, face scrunched in bliss.

Your fingers creep between your legs, pulling your panties aside to rub at your soaked cunt. “Fuck, y’so wet,” Matty slurs out, using what little awareness he has left to lift his head and fix his gaze on your glistening core.

“So are you,” you taunt. “My pretty girl’s fuckin’ dripping for me, huh?” You tip your head back and moan quietly as you draw slow circles over your swollen clit, the weight of Matty’s gaze on you magnifying every spark of pleasure until you might catch alight.

Matty’s cock looks painfully hard between his legs, dripping precum with every thrust of his fingers. “Yeah, m’wet for you, fuck. M’ready, please,” he whines, writhing under his own touch, hips grinding desperately up against the air. “Please fuck me.” His words are high, breathy, tinged sweet with desperation.

With a Herculean effort, you ignore your base impulse to scramble on top of him and give him exactly what he wants. Instead, you kneel up slowly, tracing your hands over his heated skin. “How do you want it, princess?”

Helpless moans spill from Matty’s lips. “Like this,” he gasps out, grinding his hips up against nothing. “Wanna kiss you while you fuck me.”

The very idea invites intimacy foreign to the two of you. You don’t kiss, you grapple lips and teeth and tongue, you breathe moans and drip spit into each other’s mouths. But you look down at Matty, sweat-soaked and pleading and desperate, hands grasping needily at your hips, and, god, he looks so destructible that you want to give him anything he wants. “Yeah?” you say, kneeling between his legs with a vicious grin. “Alright, baby. I’ll be gentle,” you smirk, his gaze transfixed by the lube dripping between your fingers and you coat the toy in it.

“Don’t want gentle,” Matty pouts, and you slowly run a hand up his chest, his breath hitching when you rest your palm lightly over his throat. He’s achingly hard, cock pressing against your belly as you lean down, mouth hovering inches from his and your hand applying the barest pressure on his neck.

“You think you can tell me what to do while you’re whining for my cock like a little bitch?” you murmur, almost loving in tone. Unable to resist, you spit in his open mouth, a whimpering moan escaping him when you slowly press the toy against his hole.

Matty’s lips part in ecstasy, eyes glassy as his hole stretches around you. “Fuck, yesyesyes—” he gasps, arching up and chasing the sensation. Heat throbs in your cunt, arousal battering your bloodstream. His cock drools precum against your stomach, everything around you feeling slick and wet and messy, the air saturated with the smell of sex and a haze of desire. “More, please, fuck!” he begs.

You lean down, crashing your lips against his as you slowly push into him, greedily swallowing his every sweet little moan. Matty’s lips are slack, feeble against yours as you lick into his mouth, drinking in the taste of him. “S’that feel good?” you ask, inching the toy deeper. “God, can feel how greedy this hole is, princess. Practically sucking me in, so fuckin’ tight around my dick. Whore,” you moan, head spinning with some unholy cocktail of desire and power.

His entire body is flushed, seemingly suspended and free-falling through a haze of bliss, unable to decide between grinding his cock up against your belly or his hips down against yours. “C’mon, fuckin’ fill me up, please! M’a good girl, m’your slut, I’ll be whatever you want, just fuck me,” Matty whines, eyes rolling back in his head as you fill him torturously slow. “Shit, yes, right there,” he gasps, whining and grinding down against you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohmygod, feels so fuckin’ good, please don’t stop,” he babbles, his cock drooling against your belly as you press into him until your hips are flush against his.

“Such a good girl, moaning all pretty on my cock,” you murmur, dipping your head to kiss at his neck, the tang of sweat coming up on your lips. “Gonna wreck you.” Your cunt throbs with need, neglected as you devote your entire attention to Matty, a drooling, whining vision straight out of a wet dream.

“God, yes, please!” You pull almost all the way out of him and slam back in, a scream tearing from his throat at your sudden, brutal pace. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, the syllable drawn out, stretched thin with pleasure. “God, feels so good, fucking- fuck, I can’t–” He cuts himself off with a broken moan as you meet that perfect spot inside him over and over.

So sick with lust you can barely see straight, you bite into the flesh of his neck, muffling your pleasured groans against his skin. “God, so dumb for me, princess. You look beautiful,” you praise, fucking him so deep his tongue lolls out of his mouth and his words die in his throat. The only sounds are your pants and moans, the slick sounds of sex, filling the room in a lurid melody. Your head spins, the sight of Matty falling into oblivion under you so erotic that you could almost cum, arousal practically soaking through your panties as you fuck him harder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t stop it, I– fuuckk,” he gasps, tears brimming at his lashline as his hips buck uncontrollably upwards, cum splattering hot against your belly.

You fuck him through, swallowing his whines greedily, slotting your mouth over his and letting him ride it out. “Fuck, greedy little whore, cumming without permission.” The slight look of fear that flickers across his face pulls a smirk to your lips as apologies spring to his. “Shh,” you say, pressing a thumb against his lips and dragging down. “It’s okay, baby. Felt too good, you couldn’t stop. S’fucking hot when you cum untouched, make such a mess of yourself,” you soothe, hushing him softly as you pull out, unbuckling the harness and discarding the strap along with your panties. “Made a mess of me, too, didn’t you? Dirty boy. Better clean up your mess, yeah?”

Matty flips you eagerly, kissing at your neck and collarbone as his cum smears between your bodies. He laves his tongue over your nipple, sucking and biting at the barbell hungrily. Pleasure wells at the base of your spine and you lay back as it wash over you, letting Matty lavish you with whatever he wants, desperate to return the favour. He licks slowly over your belly, cleaning his cum and looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. “Good boy,” you say, sliding a hand into his hair and puppeteering him down until he’s eye-level with your cunt. Hunger gleams in his gaze as he buries his tongue inside you, a sudden wave of heat rolling over your body. “That’s it, princess. Been such a good boy. You wanna make me feel good? If you do it fast enough, I’ll get you off again, any way you want.”

[littlemissclandestine]

Russell Adler Comfort Hcs pt.2

What America's Monster would be like if you weren't feeling 100% (a continuation of this post)

He's very observant meaning he'd pick up on any changes to your body language. How you are avoiding eye contact, seem a little more distant and distracted lately and are a lot more sluggish than usual. It's scary sometimes how he knows your little habits and trends in behaviour.

He'd make you your morning coffee/tea just how you like it, without a word spoken

Adler usually gets you to go on a long walk with him to clear your head. He'll surprise you and take you to a lovely scenic spot too -> "Right that's it. Come on, on your feet. We're going for a walk, sweetheart. Fresh air'll do you some good. I know a good spot. You'll love it. Promise."

He'd let you treat him like a punching bag. He takes those punches in the chest like a champ but he pulls you into a hug, squeezing you until you finally give up, drained of energy from crying. He's never the first to let go.

He cooks you a good ol' hearty meal he knows you love.

Or he asks you if you'd like to bake with him. You both making an absolute mess of the kitchen, making poor Russ wash up since it was his idea but he lets you off

Russ lets you join him in the shooting range/gym late at night if you can't sleep. ->

-"Hope you're not planning to sit there all night, sulking."

-"No, of course not."

-"Show me what ya got then, tiger." *winks and hands gun to you*

Breakfast in bed and him running a bath for you? Hell yes.

He wants to make you smile and he knows one fool proof way of making that happen. He'll get on top of you and kiss you all over until you giggle uncontrollably because of how ticklish it is.

I feel like this man would be the best at giving life advice given what he's gone through, what he's achieved etc.

Adler is the type of guy to pull up a chair and sit next you on the porch out front, lighting a cig and offering you one too and then proceeding to have a really deep conversation with you out of nowhere, whether that's about why you're upset or not . He's good at it. I know he hates small talk.

But just him being there to distract you from whatever you're feeling is nice, even if it's temporary

You might get the occasional dad joke that's hilariously bad but those are reserved for those close to him

Or he might tell you a funny story about himself. Nothing too embarrassing. He's got a reputation to maintain after all

But he'd most definitely remind you of all the times you've gotten through stuff like this before and how you can always come to him, no matter what.

[shit-talker]

i got bored and began writing an essay on charles, and now i have over 1300 words doing a deep dive of how charles is stuck in limbo

[batsplat]

following on from this. not to always bring marc into everything (sorry marc) but if assen 2015 had happened against jorge, valentino would have very likely pulled something similar again imo. rather than what he actually did, which is approach marc almost immediately for a nice normal friendly handshake and backing off during the podium celebrations. should be noted that during laguna seca '08, valentino was very much committed to yapping at casey on the podium with the world's biggest smuggest grin on his face

partly that disparity is because jorge not marc was the direct title rival, partly it's because valentino was treating marc with kid gloves right until the second that he wasn't, which marc was seemingly entirely oblivious to. if anyone other than marc had said what he said in that presser, had then continued on with similar rhetoric during sachsenring, valentino would quite likely have gone nuclear. he's done it over less than that. his fondness for marc made him continue to exhibit uncharacteristic restraint... except that fondness unfortunately is what left valentino feeling so very betrayed when (to his eyes) marc could not leave well enough alone

[zeeposting]

guess who wrote a 798 word story on how scroll and quill met 🔥🔥

its very long so

Scroll sighed. He didn’t want to go to whoever's party this was. 

“Chin up, sweetie.” His mother didn’t turn around, yet could tell he was sulking.

“Can’t I stay home?” He pleaded, once again.

“You need to make some friends, Scroll. This is a good opportunity!” 

He sighs again as the car pulls into the venue. He wishes he had denied his mothers wishes and taken Fuzzy, his beloved cat plush, with him.

“It’ll be fun!” She promises. Scroll doesn’t believe her. He just wants to go home.

As they walk in, he sees a lot of people. Too many people. He grabs onto his moms leg, not wanting to stray far from the one person he knows. She walks over to various people, having short conversations, but Scroll doesn’t say anything.

He clings tighter to his moms leg the more people notice him. He doesn’t know any of these people, so he doesn’t see why he should talk to them.

He glances over, across most of the parents, spotting a few kids running around. Around his age, it seems. Some of the kids are a pencil, an ink pad and a scruffy looking feather. A quill, maybe? Feeling his mother begin to move, he reverts his attention back to his mom, moving onto a container of fish food and exchanging a few words.

The fish food leans down towards him. “Hello there, little guy!”

Scroll leans away. Even though the fish food chuckles at this, he thinks it makes it clear he wants to go home. He thinks. 

“Sorry about him, he’s not… social.” His mother apologizes. Why does she need to say sorry..?

Then his mother walks up to a pen. Scroll, being 5, struggles to read the label. He doesn’t bother to listen to the conversation, and looks back at those kids he saw. The feather seems… intimidating, honestly. He watches as they run around, one or two fall, but his attention snaps back to his mom and the pen when he hears his name.

“Scroll’s not the most social, but I’m hoping at some point he’ll talk to some other kids.” His mother sighs.

“My son’s pretty friendly, but ends up scaring off his friends. He’s… chaotic.” The pen glances over at the kids that are running around. 

Scroll looks back to see the quill biting someone. The pencil was trying to drag them off, a packet seeming to yell, and an ink pad… also biting them. Any of those kids could belong to the pen, they all seemed chaotic.

The pen and his mother converse for a bit, but he doesn’t pay much attention. The group of kids running around seemed… interesting. His focus wavered between the conversation and the kids, but he didn’t say anything.

“We’ll just have to see if they get along, I guess. I’ll bring him over if you want?” The pen proposed, pointing over at the group of kids. 

“Sounds like a good idea, thank you!” His mother smiled, glancing down at Scroll. “Try to make some friends, okay?” 

“...where’s she going?” He ignored what she asked, and instead countered with a question about the pen.

“Well, Gel Pen wants to see if her son and you can be friends!” She smiles awkwardly, glancing back up.

Scroll sees the pen— Gel Pen— walking back with the feather. Him? He thinks, worried about how the feather will act. I don't want to talk to… that! 

       As they approach, he begins to hear their voices fade in. 

       “...so no biting.”

       “Awwh, okay… but can I-”

       “No, Quill.”

       “You didn't even let me speak!”

       “I know you well enough to know what you were going to say.” Gel Pen smiles, looking up to wave at his mother. Scroll kept holding onto his moms leg tightly.

      Gel Pen introduced Quill to his mother and they started to talk, but Scroll didn't quite pay attention. He silently analyzes Quill, seeing how he seems confident with himself. 

       “...and paired with how much he bites, he tends to scare off his friends.” Gel Pen sighs.

       “No I don't!! My friends are my friends because they like me!!” Quill interrupts. With his expression and slightly whiny voice, Scroll can't help but laugh.

       This catches Quill's attention, who looks over at Scroll. “Oh, hey, do you want to play tag with us?” Quill smiles, gesturing to the other kids he saw.

      Scroll glances back up at his mom, who's avoiding eye contact with him. “Uhm, sure…?”

      He can hear his mother sigh with relief. Quill grabs Scroll's wrist and pulls him over to the other kids, dodging all the parents standing around. 

      Scroll stumbles over his own feet, but he can't help but feel excited to meet those other kids.

[kanerallels]

Kinda want to go to sleep, kinda want to work on my fan fic, kinda want to listen to music and think about my crack ship (don't ask)

[qcomicsy]

Marvel writer: Then Wade get involved with monsters! And–

Me:

[wifihunters]

y'all week one of being on adderall and with all genuine feeling this is wild in a very good way

[stewy]

it is so funny mulling over a fic that a total of 4 people will read and enjoy. that's where the true love of the game is

[discoknack]

I can imagine Soshiro going to pat Skully's head for some reason or another.

I also think Skully would greet their usual babysitter (besides their Mama, Kafka) as "Oki", short for Okonogi. I feel like I've heard that before.

And it might be cute if Soshiro at some point began to spot Captain Ashiro near a certain region of the base a little more often. Just enough to notice, but not enough to be suspicious.

One day he enters the surveillance room and Skully is humming and wiggling in their seat, doodling on some paper at their Oki's desk. Okonogi Konomi is supervising as usual: Her hands are clasped and her neck is craned to get a better look at the drawing, but she's otherwise just smiling and letting Skully do their thing.

She points at the paper and asks Skully a question. Okonogi always interacts with Skully in a sweet way. Aside from her initial fright at a Yoju up-close, Soshiro figures her scientific curiosity was piqued, and it's only natural for a human to treat a baby nicely. And Skully is such a sweetie, even as creepy a baby as they are. This time, though, Okonogi practically sings the question.

Skully's reply is short, so after, Soshiro casually asks, "Something good happen, Okonogi-chan?"

Skully reacts to Soshiro's presence, yipping "Papa!" and zipping out of the chair to run at him, page and crayon in hand. Meanwhile, Okonogi addresses him as Vice-Captain.

When Skully reaches Soshiro, Okonogi murmurs, as if keeping a secret, "I just saw something cute today."

Soshiro crouches to pat Skully's head, saying "Ah, little Kaiju~ You get bigger every day! What are we going to do with you?" which is, of course, an exaggeration.

Skully lifts themself on their toes to happily meet his hand in the greeting. But then Soshiro makes a slight face and rubs his fingers together. Something sticky or oily? He inspects his hand and notes a sweet smell, and the substance is clear and shiny.

He holds out his hand in front of Skully's face, curious. "What's this?"

Skully sniffs it, then happily hums in response to the scent. They look down at their paper with a kind of smile, their body wiggling, especially the tail, and something about their demeanor suggests they're blushing right through their face-plates. They croon a little when they say, "Pretty Ma-" but they stop, suddenly bewildered. "Ma?"

[velidewrites]

Saw your tags on that one post and had to check -- only 41 fics on Ao3 are feyre/rhys/lucien. 0.3%. An absolute tragedy bc you're right it would be the hottest throuple ever

Brb running to make my way through them

[anna-scribbles]

Hello!! How are you in this beautiful day on earth??

I was wondering if you have a fanfic masterlist? Because I am currently obsessed with your fics and would like to binge read them :)

Thanks!! <3

hi you’re so sweet!! i don’t have too many fics on my ao3 right now but they are:

call it even - joint fic with @sha-nwa

3/11 chapters, 19k so far, ongoing (updates on tuesdays & fridays!)

AU, ladynoir enemies / adrinette dating

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir.

golden (like daylight)

2/2 chapters, 13k

contemplative, prose-y, loosely-linear story about adrien loving marinette (my adrinette thesis. basically)

Friendship, Adrien decided, shaking off the mental image of Marinette’s hurricane eyes and hesitant mouth, parted in a small, careful “o.” He had a very strong friendship with Marinette. That was all. or Adrien thinks a lot about words, love, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

circles & cycles (right back where you started)

one shot, 2k

deleted marichat balcony scene from golden

She shouldn’t have still been up, but she was. Circles under her eyes, circle in the sky. She stood at the balcony rail tranquil and unhurried, light and air and sound all bending to the soft shape of her profile, the gentle slope of her neck. The dark made Chat restless but it framed Marinette like a painting.

at our wedding

one shot, 4k

adrien & chloe's complicated friendship through the years (feat. hypothetical platonic wedding planning

“Chloé,” Adrien said slowly, “At our wedding, are we gonna have to…” “No!” Chloé shook her head firmly. “We don’t have to kiss. We can do whatever we want. It’s our wedding.” “Oh, good,” Adrien sighed. “You have to kiss at a wedding,” Félix argued. “I don’t have to do anything and you’re not the boss of me!” Chloé shouted. “Yeah!” Adrien grinned. He grabbed Chloé’s hand again. “Yeah, it’s our wedding.”

no other shade of blue, but you

one shot, 1k

unrequited adrinette blues

There was something entrancing, though, about such a natural and uncomplicated smile on Adrien Agreste’s face. It wouldn’t have sold anybody anything; it wasn’t for anyone but himself. And her, Marinette’s mind supplied. It’s for her too. And Marinette had to know, suddenly. She had to know like she had to breathe. “What’s she like?”

[screebyy]

DestinyTober days 6-10 "Awakening"

There’s far less fanfare to it than cheating death deserves - it’s just a jolt, and a small gasp, and then he’s awake, like coming out of a bad dream. He feels soft grass beneath his fingertips, feels a warm breeze on his skin. Slowly, he opens his eyes, and blinks - it’s bright, far brighter than he can remember anything ever being. He feels the warmth on his skin - sunlight.

“Welcome back.”

He sits up, and his breath catches for reasons he can’t understand. The man sitting in front of him cocks his head to the side, one eyebrow arches up.

“Do you remember me?”

Does he? He furrows his brow, trying to decide if he remembers anything at all. A flicker of worry passes through the man’s eyes.

It comes back to him in an instant. He remembers children’s games and endless laughter. He remembers stealing whiskey from his mother’s liquor cabinet, remembers taking turns sipping from the bottle while they watched the stars together. He remembers a crooked smile, teeth stained pink with blood, beaming back at him from a makeshift fighting ring on the Yang Liwei. He remembers a warmth, in the pit of his stomach, remembers how it spread and burned hotter and hotter until he couldn't contain it anymore, like a wildfire.

“I do,” he answers, his throat is dry and scratchy from disuse. The man smiles in relief, and hands him a canteen of water. He takes a long drink, and takes stock of what he can't remember. “But I don’t know your name.”

“Uldren,” he says, and the sound is crystal clear in his mind. Of course he’s Uldren, he always has been. Uldren stares for a moment longer, then asks. “What’s yours, now?”

“Jolyon,” he says, without thinking, without even knowing before the name leaves his lips. He doesn’t remember what it was before. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Jolyon,” Uldren echoes quietly, eyes trailing away as he repeats it to himself. “Jolyon... Jol… Hm. Yeah, I like that.”

Jolyon’s heart squeezes in his chest, he smiles so wide his cheeks ache.

“Me too,” he says, and Uldren smiles back.

They’re quiet for a moment, before Uldren leans in close. He brings one hand up to Jolyon’s face, staring with quiet fascination.

“Your eyes are different,” he says, curiously. “They’re green now. I think they were brown before.”

His thumb brushes ever so slightly along Jolyon’s cheek, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to lean into Uldren’s palm, to feel the heat of it against his skin. Before he gets the chance, Uldren’s hand drifts away, toying absently with a stray lock of Jolyon’s hair.

“And your hair… it’s all different, now, isn’t that incredible? Was I different, before?”

Jolyon squints at him, struggling to picture the color of Uldren’s eyes. Now they’re bright, sparkling gold, hair black as night and starlight dancing under his skin. Jolyon can’t imagine him any other way.

“I don’t remember,” he says. 

Uldren leans back on his hands.

“I don’t remember a lot of the details, either,” he shrugs. “Everything's all hazy. Maybe it’ll come back in time. Maybe not.”

Jolyon hums, staring down at his hands, pale green-blue and streaked with the same ripples of starlight as Uldren. They weren't like that before, he's almost certain. A million questions sit on the tip of his tongue, but he can't seem to find the words to ask them - Uldren starts to answer anyways.

"Sorry I didn't bring you back sooner," Uldren sighs, lying back in the grass. He closes his eyes, and tilts his face into the sunshine. "Alis, the captain, she's made all these plans with Mara, everything's got an order."

"Mara…" 

The name stirs something in Jolyon's gut. He remembers Mara - his friend, Uldren's sister. Mara, the one making all the rules to their games when they were little, Mara, the reason they were on the colony ship in the first place. Mara, the one who always chose the whiskey from their mother's cabinet, the one who would make up constellations as they stared at the night sky, would name them fantastic things as she traced the shape of them with her finger. He remembers, too, how Uldren would look at her as she pointed up at the stars, like she was the one who hung them there.

"Everybody remembers Mara," Uldren chuckles.

Jolyon grimaces, just for a second. He remembers, more than anything, wanting to be alone with Uldren. To see what constellations they might find without her.

Uldren doesn't notice his reaction, and keeps talking.

"Alis woke up first," he explains, counting on his fingers above him. "And she woke Mara, so she was second. I was… seventh, I think? I guess Alis thought it was important to talk to some fancy physicists and scientists from the pods first. And then Mara woke me and Mom."

Waking. It's so humble, but it’s the perfect word to describe the feeling. The sudden awareness, and the fogginess that accompanies it - like trying to reorient yourself after a nap that dragged on too long. It’s certainly a more palatable way of phrasing it than the truth - necromancy, an impossible undeath, his body changed and brimming with magic, the memories of his past life no more than a faded photograph…

"You're eighty-fourth," Uldren continues, gesturing at Jolyon. "Like I said, Alis had the ship's manifest, and she's got this big plan for everything, this order we should wake everyone in. Got to get food and shelter and safety all sorted out first, and some sort of societal infrastructure to indoctrinate everybody into as they wake up, or whatever."

He waves his hands dismissively, as if the mass resurrection and rebirth of society was of no more interest to him than what he had for breakfast. Maybe it's not.

“Honestly, it’s all kind of bullshit,” he muses. “Some people are starting to wake on their own, and there were so many of us, even just on the crew - if we stick to Alis’ plans it’s going to take ages…”

He trails off, then sits up with a grin.

"But for now - I really wasn't supposed to bring you back, yet," he laughs, pointing at Jolyon accusingly. "If anyone asks, it was an accident."

"Why did you do it then?" Jolyon laughs, shoving his hand away playfully.

Uldren grins, and shrugs.

"Bored." His eyes drift away, looking out across the meadow as his voice softens. "I missed you, I guess."

For a moment, Jolyon feels light as air, and that warm squeeze in his chest bubbles up into his throat.

And then, something pricks at his heart, a dark pang of something he wishes he'd forgotten. 

He remembers the fabric of everything stretching and twisting, he remembers the dark, throbbing hum in the back of his skull. He remembers sitting huddled together in the corner of a store room, remembers the spiteful realization that they were finally alone together, and all it took to get there was the end of the universe. He remembers bursting out into tears, hugging Uldren so tight into his chest and trying to find the words to tell him, just once, before the end. To let that wildfire inside him burn freely, before it was extinguished forever. He opened his mouth to say it, to say something, and in the exact same moment, Uldren pulled away.

"I'm going to find Mara," he said, and Jolyon's heart had shattered. "I'll be back, I promise."

Jolyon had died alone, with Uldren's last lie bitter in his ears as everything ripped apart.

But now…here he was. And Jolyon knows, the hand that reached into the darkness and saved him from death’s embrace was Uldren’s, he’d pulled him out of infinite slumber into bright sunlight, and smiled at him. He’d kept his promise in the end, hadn’t he? More than that, he’d saved him, he’d brought him back to life - isn’t that more than enough, to forgive the agony of a half-remembered death? What does it matter, now?

I missed you, I guess.

"Well… thanks, I guess," Jolyon murmurs, after a long silence. There's too much to say, so that will have to do, for now.

Slowly, Jolyon follows his gaze out over the plains, taking in the untamed landscape. He doesn’t remember much, but he knows he’s never seen anything like it - growing things, in every direction, nature unlike anything they'd had back home. Wide, glittering rivers snaking out into the distance, disappearing behind great mountain ranges, and forests that sprawl out for miles, the distant sounds of a million wild things.

“Where are we?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” Uldren laughs, his voice brimming with excitement. “Nobody knows. It’s amazing - we have no idea how big it is, everything’s just beginning."

Jolyon looks up at the sky, split from horizon to horizon by two giant glowing streaks of light. Planetary rings, he thinks - at night, would there be stars beyond those rings? The same stars they’d known before, or new ones?

“It’s beautiful,” Jolyon whispers.

"I know!" Uldren shouts, gesturing out at the vista before them. "Look at this place, I want to get out there and see it, but everybody's all caught up in Alis' plan and nobody cares about exploring yet. It'll be months before they get everyone woken up, I can't stand it! Every chance I get I come out here to poke around, but... Mara's always busy, she never comes with me."

There's a sting in his voice as he trails off, but before Jolyon can comment, he shakes the moment's vulnerability away. He points down at the distant treeline, at the other side of the meadow.

"The other day, I saw this bird down there - it was jet black, I thought it was a crow at first, but it was huge."

He holds out his hands, measuring the distance.

"The size of an eagle, at least. It was beautiful, Jol - I want to find its nest, and I'm going to tame one."

"You're gonna catch a bird?" Jolyon laughs. "That's your first priority, after cheating death?"

"Well, no, I needed to wake you up first," Uldren laughs back, shoving his shoulder lightly. "So you could help me track it down, obviously."

Jolyon shoves back, and lets his hand linger on Uldren's shoulder just a second longer than it needs to. He thinks he'll like it here, wherever they are. Alone, with Uldren.

"Sure," he says, watching the excitement shimmer behind Uldren's eyes. "Why not."